Not a Good Year to be an Omega
by Expressionista
Summary: Conner thought that being abandoned by her pack to be a human Omega at sixteen was taboo enough. She had no idea wrong she'd be proven only a year later, when an Alpha, a beta, and a hunter get added to the mix. Derek/OC
1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

**So, I've been writing this story for myself for fun since I started watching the show... Figured I'd publish it and see what happens! So, please let me know what you guys think, thanks :)**

* * *

The day my pack left was about a week after my sixteenth birthday.

We lived in a large house on the outskirts of town with a backyard that directly faced several miles of forestry, so silence was a luxury we were used to. No traffic, no noisy neighbors, and no complaints about the constant chaos that reigned in our household. I'd simply assumed that the boys had passed out at the college party they'd gone to, and that Dad and Susan were taking advantage to sleep while the girls were with our aunt. I had always been more of a morning person, but I felt strangely sleepier than normal, and couldn't bring myself to wake up with the sun like always.

It wasn't until almost noon that I noticed that the silence wasn't a sign of peace, but rather a sign of absence. I opened the door to my room and padded quietly out into the hall, listening for any sign of life in the house. When I reached the stairs and started to walk down, the air became thick and my moves sluggish.

Everything was gone: the worn out couches the boys used; the La-Z-Boy our father laid on while the toddlers tried to climb onto his lap; the dining room table where my brother always sat to explain trigonometry to me. There were lighter square patches on the walls where family photos and paintings had been taken down and the carpet was littered with imprints from furniture that was now gone. As I wandered into the kitchen, I was met with a similar scene. The refrigerator had been left behind, and when I opened it, I found a week's worth of food in a bag, just like my stepmother used to prepare for us when we'd go camping.

There wasn't a note explaining, but it was when I found the food that I knew for certain they'd left. Mercifully, the house phone was also left behind. In something of a daze I called the only person I could think of for help, and then sat down on the kitchen floor to wait.

The Sheriff was walking into my house in less than ten minutes. Maybe it was my tone of voice, or maybe it was simply that I'd said, "My family is gone. All gone," but he seemed to have realized it was an emergency and had stopped whatever he was doing to get to my house. Stiles was with him, and despite his father's protests, he wandered into the foyer only seconds after the Sheriff did. He was a year or two younger than me, but we went to middle school together. He lost his mom shortly after I lost mine. That was about as much as I knew about him.

Sheriff Stalinsky wasn't too sure about how to proceed, and who could blame him? It's not every day that a family drugs their daughter with sleeping pills and then disappears overnight. He found an envelope in what used to be my father's office, and it was everything for him to not act unprofessionally angry when he found that it contained emancipation paperwork and some money orders to pay for utilities and rent for a month.

My memories after the moment I read the paperwork are very hazy. I know that Child Protection Services arrived and the Sheriff insisted that I stay at his home until everything was sorted out, which I did, for a week. I remember Stiles watching me, waiting for the moment the emotion would hit me. Hell, everyone watched. I overheard someone in a suit comment in a whisper that maybe the whole thing was staged, because it didn't seem believable and I seemed completely unaffected. Ha, he didn't know the half of it.

Wolves aren't supposed to abandon one of their own. I had never shifted like my brothers had, or even like my parents, but I'd never felt separate from them. My uncle and one of my cousins was human too, and we'd go bowling while the family went for their traditional runs. Even if we weren't all wolves, we were a pack.

But, of course, every family has its secrets. My mother was the alpha, and so when I was born, it was a celebration, just as it had been with my brothers. As a child I didn't notice that everyone had dark eyes while mine were honey colored, or that I was the only one with mahogany-colored hair. Back then, everyone simply said, "Of course, babies' eyes change color all the time," or "Oh, brown hair must be a recessive gene," and as far as I'd known, they believed it.

When my mother died, however, my Dad lost it. Alcohol owned his nights, and dragged him through the daylight hours. One bad night in a drunken rage he started ranting about hunters, and amidst his only slightly coherent yells called me a bastard child and said he never wanted to see me again. So, I went to live with Auntie Jessie so he wouldn't have to. A week later, my brothers picked me up and took me home. Everything went back to normal, and I welcomed it. A couple of months passed, and Dad met Susan. She replaced the alcohol, and did the typical things that "cool" stepmothers do to try and win their stepdaughters over. Shopping and talking about boys and running as a human in the morning while the pack shifted. It didn't mean much that I didn't participate in the ceremony when they got married while all of my siblings did. In all honesty, I didn't notice. I was just happy that she'd be a part of the family. We were all happy. I hardly even remembered that dark night when my father disowned me for the first time.

When I saw the papers, however, I remembered it perfectly clear, and realized the reason I'd been left behind.

Back in the day, when a bastard child was born, they were given standard last names rather than their fathers'. So, once the judge approved my emancipation, I filed for a name change. I kept my first and middle name, but threw away my pack's last name and took on a new one. My aunt didn't approve, but she didn't stop me either, and simply wrinkled her nose when I showed her my new state ID. I know that Conner Fitz isn't exactly a name that rolls off the tongue, but it's mine. I'm a bastard child born into a wolf pack, and nothing can be done to change that. My mother was an alpha and my pack kicked me out, a taboo combination like becoming an omega at only fifteen.

I'm sorry, at sixteen. Like I said, it was a crazy year.

* * *

**One Year Later:**

Being born into the family I was, I was raised to be prepared for certain things. I learned to not be surprised when my brothers would lunge at each other and resolve their problems through physical fights; I've long since gotten over my queasiness at the sight of blood and broken bones; and, recognizing that many times, the best choice is to run, I've taken up the habit of running at least an hour every other morning.

But how to pay attention to the gas meter after a nasty fight with my boyfriend?

That's one skill I have yet to acquire.

"Dammit Heath, get over yourself," I mutter as he rejects my call for the fourth time. I trudge down the road with an empty fuel can in one hand and my useless cell phone in the other. It's already one o'clock in the morning, but I know for a fact that he's very much awake and simply ignoring my calls. His best friend Jessie would pick me up if I asked, but he's over at his girlfriend's house tonight, so his cellphone is off to avoid sex interruptions. I consider calling my father for a second, and can't help but laugh at the hypothetical scenario.

Yeah, even if he hadn't cut off his cell phone, calling my dad a year after he abandoned me in this town would not be the best idea. We'd most likely spend easily an hour arguing about how much I remind him of my late mother and whatever dead beat is my real biological father before I could ask him for the gallon of gas that could get me to a gas station, and in that time frame, I was better off just walking there myself.

I catch sight of the gas station in the distance, the white lights a beacon of hope in this overall frustrating night. Just as I let out a sigh of relief, the hair on the back of my neck stands on end, and I get the feeling that I'm being watched. I look over my shoulder, see nobody, and pick up the pace. Beacon Hills is a small town that psycho killers and rapists stay away from, but I don't plan on being Beacon Hills' first victim. Getting abducted on a desolate road would just be too cliché for me to handle.

In no time I'm walking under the safety of the white gas station light. There aren't any cars around, but I'm sure the place has 24-hour service, and confidently walk up to the dusty service window. "Yo, Kevin!" I call, knocking on the dirty glass. "Gas emergency!" It's not the first time I'm left stranded on this road because I've forgotten to fill my truck's tank, but admittedly, it's the first time I do it this late at night. Even so, Kevin should be here. Figuring he may have dozed off, I walk to the locked glass door and knock harder. The small shop closes after midnight, so the lights inside are all off save for the emergency light, providing just enough light for me to see inside.

"Kevin, wake up!" I yell. I peer through the glass and see a dark figure staggering towards the door. "Wow, are you okay? You're limping."

Once he passes beneath the emergency light, I see how much of an understatement that is. I can't stop the gasp that escapes me as I scramble backwards, tripping over my own feet and falling to the ground. I see my reflection in the glass, and see horror reflected back at me in wide honey-colored eyes. Kevin finally reaches the door and claws at the glass, trying to hold himself up. The blood all over his palms makes him slip, and in a heap he crumbles to the floor. I see his ruined leg splayed out behind him, the bottom of his pant leg ripped to shreds and blood pouring out of the wound. I nearly pass out when I see that his throat's been torn at, a wound I'm far too familiar with. Blood spurts out of the neck gash every time he breathes like it's a special effect from a bad slasher film, and if I couldn't recognize that claw marks were what was marring his flesh, I maybe could have convinced myself it was a prank.

How I wish I couldn't smell the blood through the door, warning me of what is to come.

"Behind... you," he whispers.

As if the floor burns me I jump to my feet and whorl around, bracing myself for what I already expect. But, there's nobody there. My heart leaps into my throat and I feel my body shaking in fear, adrenaline pumping through my veins as if by the mere force of it I'll be able to survive. But, it's the opposite effect, I know: he can hear my heart beating faster, louder, and he'll be able to find me from a mile away. I look back at Kevin to see if he's alive, but the blood has stopped squirting out of his neck, and I know it's because he's stopped breathing and his own heart has given up.

I bite back the panic and scan the area, searching for the telltale glow of wolf eyes in the darkness. I can practically smell the wolf close by, the stench of blood hanging close to its scent. The stench reminds me of my father, and I want to scream with frustration at how familiar this scene is to the training exercises we used to have. Without the fear for my life, of course.

"You are going to leave me alone," I say, directing the statement to the general darkness beyond the gas station. My voice quavers slightly as I say the words, but I keep my face serious and try not to show how terrified I am. "My pack will know if I'm attacked by an alpha, and they'll come and rain hell on this town until they find you."

It's not a complete lie. Keelan and Jeremy, my cousins, would. Never mind that they're only fifteen years old. And live about two hours away. And aren't coming to stay with me until tomorrow night. My dismal situation hits me, and it's only my survival instinct and pride that keeps me from rolling over in surrender.

"I doubt that, Conner."

The unnatural voice comes from behind me, and before I can turn around, a claw collides with my back and throws me to the ground. I tuck my arms and head in and manage to roll a couple of feet without injury, but when I stop and look up, there's nobody there. I jump to my feet and back up against the building so he can't sneak up on me again, my hands shaking at my sides and my heart in my throat. I try to remember what my father and brothers taught me, but all my training is pointless when I can't shift. I drop my head back against the building, keeping the frightened tears and panic at bay as I take deep breaths.

Being the victim of an alpha is not something my family could have prepared me for. Fighting one, sure; there are fights for pack leadership every couple years or so, sometimes for months at a time. But being hunted by an alpha isn't something that happens to my family. What does a werewolf have to worry about a werewolf trying to maul it? Not much more than a human has to worry about another human in hand-to-hand combat. And my family is always bigger and badder than the other guy. If one of my brothers were here, he would be bounding out into the forest and fighting the alpha. But, I'm the bastard child that didn't get the big-and-bad gene, which is why, instead of fighting, I'm frozen here like a sitting duck, praying the alpha's bored of playing with me already.

The sound of a car reaches me then, and I feel a spark of hope. A blue Jeep pulls in to the gas station, and involuntarily I let out a sigh of relief. It's Stiles, the Sheriff's son. To make matters even better, four cops cars follow the Jeep, sirens ablaze as they surround the gas station. Even as Stiles jumps out of his Jeep and runs towards me with his father close behind, I can't bring myself to move or speak. I'm paralyzed, the shameful fear keeping me from running to Stiles and throwing my arms around the kid.

"Conner, you okay?" Stiles asks, holding my shoulders and putting his face in front of mine. I only blink as his father jerks him away, slapping the back of his son's head as he pushes him behind him.

"Dammit Stiles! Conner, what are you doing here?" the Sheriff exclaims. "We got a call from Kevin-"

"He's dead," I whisper, cutting him off. His eyes widen and finally he looks at the door. In a second he's yelling orders to his deputies and trying to force the door open, leaving me and Stiles off to the side while they get to work. Stiles is staring at me, and finally I'm able to take a breath and move. My legs give out under me as I step forward and I drop to the floor. Stiles catches me before I can hurt myself and he drapes one of my arms over his shoulders, holding me up. There's a bench a couple of feet away and he sets me down on it, standing up in front of me in case I decide to fall again.

"Thanks," I mutter, bracing my hands against the bench. I'm starting to feel nauseous, but I breathe in deeply, forcing my body to calm down. There's no way in hell I'm going to hurl chunks now in front of the Beacon Hills Police Department. And Stiles.

"What happened?"

The question of the hour, because last time I checked, my mother was the only alpha who'd ever held interest in me, and she was both dead and uninterested in being a killer.

* * *

If there was one thing Derek could determine about the girl, it was that she was a pretty good liar. He stood at the edge of the forest, watching the scene and listening in on the questioning. More police officers had arrived along with CSI and an ambulance to investigate the alpha's latest victim, the latter of which was the center of his attention- or, rather, the only survivor so far.

She was a weird one. The girl sat in the back of the ambulance as the paramedic cleaned off her back and the Sheriff interrogated her, her golden eyes calmly fixed on the officer. Her shoulder-length hair was an unusual color that was somewhere between brown and red and was cut in choppy layers that made it look messy. The paramedic had had her take off her shirt, so she sat with her arms braced against her knees clad in nothing but a black bra and torn jeans, seemingly comfortable even with the lack of clothing. The Sheriff didn't look as comfortable and had offered to excuse himself, but she'd insisted she didn't mind his being there. Maybe it was for the best that he feel so awkward; Derek couldn't take the risk of the Sheriff not believing the lie the girl was expertly weaving.

"I only caught a glimpse of it, but it looked like some sort of mountain lion," she explained, wincing as the paramedic wiped a particularly sensitive patch of skin. "Or maybe it was a big dog, I don't know. Really, it was big and furry with claws and teeth. That's all the description I cared for at the time."

"We'll need to give you a rabies shot," the paramedic informed her. She shook her head.

"I was vaccinated last year," she said, clearly trying to avoid the process. "I should have another year or two of immunity."

"But just in case-"

"Can't it wait until tomorrow?" she damn near pleaded. "I don't want to go to a hospital. I just want to get home."

"I have a shot here," the paramedic said, smiling slightly at her desperation. "It can go in your arm, so once I'm done here, we'll get that out of the way."

"Deal." She looked up at the Sheriff. "Any other questions?"

"Let's just go over this one more time," he began, looking down at his notes. "So, you were driving home from work. Where is that?" At that point Derek started to pay more attention. He couldn't recognize her, and the name "Conner" for a girl didn't ring a bell for him. If she'd been scratched deeply enough, it was possible that she would start turning, and he would need to know where to go to keep an eye on her.

"Stacey's Cafe, one town over," she said, slowly so he could write it down.

"Alright. Your truck ran out of gas down the road, and you walked here. Why didn't you call anyone?"

"I called my boyfriend, but we got into a fight earlier, so..." she trailed off, and frowned. "I'm sorry, can he go on the record as my ex-boyfriend?" Derek rolled his eyes: another drama queen.

"I sure hope so," the paramedic muttered as he bandaged the injuries. The Sheriff raised a brow and the girl laughed, shaking her head.

"Professionalism, sparky," she reminded the paramedic, but it came out as more of a joke than an actual admonishment. She was full of contradictions; she'd been attacked no more than an hour before, and she was easily making jokes with the paramedic cleaning up the wounds that could have easily taken her life, but was still holding a grudge about her boyfriend (or ex-boyfriend, he really didn't care) not picking up his phone. Either she was in shock, or was far too familiar with life-threatening situations.

"Anyways, yeah. I don't know too many people around here besides you and Stiles, and the gas station was only a half mile away or so, so I decided to walk and maybe ask Kevin for a ride back. I mean, yeah, he's schizophrenic, and we weren't exactly close, but he's always been very nice to me."

"And when you got here, did you notice anything suspicious?" he pressed. "Like a person or a car?"

She shook her head. "When I knocked on the door, I saw Kevin..." She stopped, not needing to explain. "He was alive when I got here, but then I got hit from behind and the animal ran off. When I checked again, he wasn't breathing anymore. So, I panicked, froze, and then you guys got here."

"Did you see in which direction the animal went?" he asked hopefully. She shook her head.

"My face was in the pavement, sorry," she said apologetically. The paramedic stood up and opened a drawer, pulling out an injection. She eyed the shot in his hand with wariness. "Do we really need to do this rabies shot business? I swear, I got bitten by a stray just last year, and the doctor gave me a rainbow of shots..."

"It will only hurt for a second," the paramedic promised, wiping an alcohol swab over her deltoid muscle. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Are you even authorized to-?" She cut herself off as he stuck the needle in her arm. She gritted her teeth and let out a long hiss. "My ass it only hurts a second!" she exclaimed once he'd pulled it out and stuck a gauze against it. She held the gauze against her arm as the paramedic rummaged around for something.

"Don't worry, I'll give you a cute band-aid," he promised teasingly. "My Pretty Pony or Disney Princesses?" She rolled her eyes.

"Hardy har."

Derek frowned as the Sheriff wrapped up the interrogation and the paramedic finished his job. Her shirt had been torn by the attack as well as her jacket, so the paramedic gave her a t-shirt and a thick blanket to throw over her shoulders. As they were saying goodbye, he gave her a slip of paper with his number on it, which she accepted with a smile and pocketed. Once she'd walked a couple of feet away, Stiles moved in, steering her towards his Jeep. She smiled warmly at him and started asking questions about school and friends.

She was... charming. And it wasn't just her friendly personality; even her physical appearance was welcoming. She had smooth, attractive skin and a slender waist with soft curves, but the one thing that stood out had to be her golden eyes. They were wide and inviting, hooded by heavy dark lashes that women everywhere strove to create with the help of cosmetics.

Just as she was getting into the Jeep, she stopped and sniffed. He moved into the shadow of a tree, and a good thing, too; a second later she was looking at the spot he'd been in, eyes narrowed and jaw set. Stiles called her name to get her attention and she reluctantly gave up, closing the door behind her.

She was pretty, but she was a liar, and a good one at that. Not once during her story did her heart rate spike, and he had yet to catch on to any of her tells. Even so, he knew she wasn't telling the truth. Despite appearances, the girl was too alert to not have gotten any more detail than "furry with claws and fangs", and had a fire to her not often seen in girls her age.

And yet, for the life of him, he couldn't fathom why the Alpha would want her on his side. There was something he was missing, and so help him, he was going to figure out what.

* * *

**Post-Chapter Note:**

**Let me know what you thought! It's only a prologue of sorts, but I'll be updating soon if I get reviews *hint *hint, so... ;)**


	2. Strange Behavior

**Author's Note:**

**Wow, I was so surprised by the positive reception for this story! Thanks so much for your reviews, and here's the next installment. I'll have the next chapter up very soon, and again, thanks to everyone who reviewed and subscribed!**

* * *

As fate would have it, getting attacked by an alpha is no excuse to not have the powers that be protect me from a rude awakening. Nightmares, heat flashes and the throbbing pain all along my back kept me restless as I drifted in and out of sleep, only to be awoken by the sound of the buzzer at seven in the morning.

See, a door bell won't wake me up, but a buzzer will, so that's what Heath installed on the door of my studio apartment when we started dating. The norm when using the buzzer is to buzz once and wait, then buzz twice if it's urgent. Whoever is at the door buzzes for two minutes flat, at which point I decide he or she won't go away if I ignore them for long enough. With blurry eyes and a stiff back, I trudge to the door and look through the peek hole.

Stiles and Miss McCall's son.

"What do you want?" I call, not opening the door. Stiles quickly releases the buzzer (much to the relief of my ears) and holds up a brown paper bag with grease stains on it.

"We brought you breakfast!" he cheerfully announces. My stomach growls and I groan: Why, why must my weakness be so simple? I unlock the door and open it, welcoming them in with a wave. Stiles drops the bag and Scott starts stammering, both their eyes wide. I look down at myself to try and figure out what's so bizarre, and sigh.

Apparently neither of them see topless girls too often.

"Excuse the mess, I'm going to put on something decent," I say, turning back to my bed as I shake my head. Geez, you'd swear I was stark naked. Girls go jogging in sports bras all the time; why can't I sleep in one?

My apartment is a small studio with a kitchen separated by a counter. The heavy curtains over the windows are drawn shut so the whole space in very dimly lit, barely allowing the boys to see the disaster zone my home really is. The bed is pushed up next to the window and serves as the couch when I have visitors, but because I wasn't counting on anyone coming by, it's covered in bandages and clothes. I grab the first over-sized t-shirt I can find and pull it over my head, careful to make sure it doesn't graze my skin too much. When I face the boys again, the door is closed and they've composed themselves. Well, as much as can be expected from teenage boys in general. Neither of them can look at me, and Stiles is beet red.

"How are you guys?" I ask, trying to be polite. Scott mumbles something and scratches the back of his head. Stiles holds out the bag he dropped.

"Heath said you like the steak breakfast sandwich," he states. I accept the bag gratefully and sit down on a stool at the kitchen counter.

"Thanks," I say, trying to project sincerity. Despite how much I would have liked to sleep some more, it's difficult enough to sit up, much less make any food. I point out the light switch to McCall. "You can turn on the light." He doesn't respond, his eyes focused on something by the wall over my bed. Stiles clears his throat, but still McCall is staring.

"Scott!" Stiles calls, punching his friend in the arm. "The light!" The so-named Scott snaps out of his daze and quickly turns on the light, exposing the mess of my home for all to see. Now Stiles is staring, and, taking a bite out of my steaming sandwich, I look over my shoulder to see what the big deal is about. Oh, right. The claw marks from Jeremy and Keelan's fight last week.

"Whoa, what happened there?" Stiles asks, not even bothering to cover up his surprise. "Did you and Heath let things get out of hand?"

I can't help but snort, and shake my head. He has no idea how passive Heath really is, even when it comes to our physical relationship. "Nah, that big mess on the wall is courtesy of my cousins," I answer, resting my elbows on the counter and continuing to eat. The greasy goodness is my favorite guilty pleasure.

"Are your cousins mountain lions?" Stiles presses, raising a brow.

"No, but they have a thing with ninja weapons," I say smoothly, rolling my eyes. "If I'm not mistaken, those were thanks to tiger claws or whatever." I shrug. "They said they'd fix it, and it's been a week. Don't trust teenage boys." At a look from him, I grin cheekily. "No offense."

"So, how are you feeling?" Scott speaks up. "I heard about the animal attack."

I cringe. "Along with the rest of town most likely."

"No, I'm sure that Joey hasn't heard about it yet," Stiles says reassuringly. I roll my eyes: Joey is the homeless man that lives outside of a deli in town. Everyone knows who he is, and he strangely knows about everybody.

"Joey reads the newspaper," I remind him. "He used to teach at Harvard, remember?"

"Oh... Then yeah, everyone's heard about it by now."

"So, you said you saw it was a mountain lion?" Scott cuts in suddenly. Stiles gives him a warning look, and I know why. It's obvious he's hiding something. But, I don't know him very well, and out of consideration for Stiles, I won't call him out on it.

"No," I say instead.

"But did you get a look at it?" he presses.

"No, I didn't," I answer shortly, and leave it at that. "Did Heath say anything?" I ask, changing the subject. Stiles scratches the back of his head awkwardly.

"Um, not really," he admits. "You know, he seemed kinda busy and all, working, and-"

"How's your back healing?" Scott interrupts. I eat the last bite of my sandwich while Stiles glares at him. The two of them have clearly come by to find out more information about the animal attack, and Scott is ruining the plan with his tactlessness.

"What Scott's _trying_ to say is that we hope you're feeling better already," Stiles says pointedly. I clean my face with a napkin and smile warmly at Stiles.

"Thanks, I've been sleeping ever since you dropped me off," I explain. "It doesn't hurt as much anymore, thankfully."

"Can we see?" Scott asks. This time I can't stop myself from laughing.

"Seriously, Scott!" I exclaim, shaking my head. "What is it you want to know?"

My question catches his my surprise because he looks away and starts stammering nervously for a response. Feeling bad for his embarrassment, I grab the hem of my shirt and take it off in one movement. Stiles' eyes widen and he's frozen to the spot, but Scott moves forward eagerly. I turn around, giving him my back so he can see.

I already imagine what they're seeing. With the adrenaline rush and all, I hadn't realized just how badly the Alpha had gotten me. The scratches weren't too deep, but they ran from my lower back all the way up to my shoulder, all four claw marks. They had been throbbing and swollen, worrying the paramedic that they might be infected, by that had already been taken care of.

"Well, that... doesn't look too bad," Scott says carefully. I scoff and pull my shirt back on, breaking Stiles out of his daze.

"Yeah, right. Is your mom working today?" I ask. He nods in confirmation. "Good. I'll stop by the hospital before work to get it checked out."

"You're working like this?" Stiles exclaims. I shrug.

"I don't have much choice," I admit. "The light bill's coming up." I clear my throat and stand up from the bar stool. "Don't you two have school to go to or something?" Within a minute they're out the door, sputtering nervous goodbyes and promises to stop by when they get out of school. I wave them goodbye with a smile and lock the door behind me once they're gone. I don't doubt that the two boys mean well, but something is off about them, especially Scott. Despite that, I don't worry too much. So long as neither of them is with the Alpha, I don't have much to worry about, do I?

* * *

"Dude, seriously?" Stiles exclaimed, slapping Scott on the shoulder. "Be a bit more obvious, why don't you?"

"I'm sorry! I didn't know what to say!" Scott said defensively, pushing him back as they walked to Stiles' Jeep. "I panicked!"

"Well, now you don't have to worry about staking her out if she's a werewolf, because next full moon, she'll just show up and kill us!" Stiles hissed. "Not to mention she has a key to my house!" They both stopped as they saw the person standing by the Jeep.

"Derek? Did you follow us here?" Scott asked suspiciously. Derek uncrossed his arms and walked up to them, expression serious, as always.

"I got here just after you two," he said, nodding at the apartment building. "What did you find out?"

"There are claw marks all around her bed," Scott answered, not bothering to argue. When it came to werewolf issues, Derek happened to be the closest they had to an expert. "And I didn't see her last night, but the scratch seems to be healing faster than normal."

"Anything else?" he pressed. "Something that would connect her to the Alpha?" Scott shrugged.

"I don't know much except that she has a part-time job at the hospital and knows my mom," he admitted. Both the werewolves turned to Stiles, who grinned and crossed his arms.

"Need _my _help now, huh?" he said. Derek took a menacing step forward and Stiles immediately scrambled back. "Okay, okay! I might know a thing or two from my dad, but nothing that has to do with the Alpha." They both looked at him expectantly and he sighed.

"Fine. Conner Fitz, formerly known as Conner Daniels. She's emancipated and opted for early graduation, which is why she doesn't go to school with us."

"What happened to her family?" Derek asked.

"I don't know, family problems," Stiles explained vaguely, shrugging his shoulders. "Nobody knows what happened, but whatever happened, it happened a year ago, and thats why she changed her name." When neither of them said anything, he went on. "She's dating some musician tool, is a good sharpshooter, loves steak sandwiches and, last time I checked, runs every morning except after she's been attacked by a psychotic werewolf." He gave Derek a snarky look. "Want to know her sign and favorite color?" Derek narrowed his eyes and Stiles relented. "or, you know, maybe... not..."

"Look, we have enough going on with the alpha running around killing people and you not knowing how to control your instincts," Derek reminded them. "You two, find out everything you can. We need to know who she knows and what she's hiding."

"What, you think she's in cohorts with the Alpha?" Stiles asked, scoffing. Derek raised his brows.

"For your information, we don't know," he said, the warning on Stiles' life clear in his tone. "I'm going to watch her, but unless you two do something, you won't have to worry about waiting until the full moon to be torn apart." And with that verbal threat, he turned around and walked to his car. Stiles looked at Scott, his eyes wide.

"He... really scares me," Stiles admitted. "Like really, really scares me."

* * *

Despite working at the hospital, I've never been a big fan of being a patient.

What was supposed to be a walk in the park check-up of the already-healing claw marks on my back has quickly spiraled out of control into a whole ordeal that has the doctor contacting specialists on diseases transmitted through four-legged animals with fur, and has me wearing an open-backed hospital gown over my jeans as I sit on the edge of an examination table and wait. The emergency room isn't exceptionally full, but even so I hear plenty of movement and chatter beyond the separation curtains that have been drawn to give me privacy. Not like there's much need: I know for a fact that the nurses and doctors here see enough naked people on a daily basis to not be shocked by anything I have to offer.

Not to mention that it's already common fact amongst my friends that I'm comfortable with nudity. Back before my pack left, my brothers used to always run around barefooted and shirtless, and unlike in most households, the girls were allowed to, as well. So long as we were wearing a decent bra, nobody seemed to even notice if Susan or I decided it was too hot for clothing.

But, those days are gone now, aren't they?

My phone vibrates across the bedside table, and with a groan, I get down from the table to get it. The soreness is still in my body, but it's much easier to move now that I've all but overdosed on painkillers. I check the caller ID, and as expected, it's Heath. I let his call go to voicemail and turn the mobile off. I don't blame him for the attack, but I just really don't feel like talking to him right now. The sound of the curtain being drawn catches my attention, announcing the doctor's return.

When I look over my shoulder, however, I'm not met with the short and stout Dr. Brown. A man a couple years older than me stands there, his light-colored eyes training in on my back. He has pitch black hair and is wearing a dark jacket over a t-shirt, typical stud attire. And he has every right to consider himself a stud: he's very handsome with a pronounced jawline and strong facial features.

But, he's not supposed to be here.

"There's a thing called privacy," I prompt pointedly. Normally I wouldn't care about him being there, and would have even struck up a friendly conversation; but something about him makes me wary of him. He shakes his head and steps back.

"Wow, I'm sorry. That was rude of me. I was just coming to see a friend, and..." he trails off, getting a better look at my face. I raise a brow expectantly, urging him to hurry up and say whatever he's going to say. "Don't I know you from someplace?"

It's everything to not roll my eyes. "Worst pick-up line ever," I inform him calmly, lifting myself onto the examination table. "Sorry, but I don't know you, and your friend isn't here."

"No, I'm sure I've seen you..."

"Look, can you just give it a rest and get out?"

He snaps his fingers, apparently remembering. "You work at Stacey's Cafe, don't you?"

Insert foot in mouth. I let out a breath and drop my head into my hands. "Wow, now I feel like a jerk," I mutter. I compose myself and sit up, extending a hand. "Sorry. I'm Conner Fitz, and I promise I don't make a habit out of insulting customers. It's just been a long day."

He chuckles good-heartedly and shakes my hand. "Derek Hale. And I don't normally barge in on people like this," he promises. The name rings a bell, and I look at him more carefully.

"You seem kind of familiar," I say slowly. He furrows his brow, apparently confused. "What's your Stacey's poison?"

"Black coffee," he answers, a little too quickly. I let the white lie slide.

"I think that might be it," I lie. He smiles, a fake smile.

"Yeah, I'm what you might call an addict..." He trails off and steps back suddenly. The curtain is pulled to the side, and finally Dr. Brown appears.

"So, my friend at Yale has assured me that the heat flashes and night terrors might just be a result of the shock, and not necessarily rabies," he starts, eyes focused on the clipboard in his hand. Ah, the doctor friend from Yale: we all know that he's really another doctor from San Francisco. "He agrees that you need to stay hydrated, and just in case, I'm starting you on some broad-spectrum antibiotics. If the swelling increases, be sure to call me." He stops, just noticing that there's someone else in the room. "You're not Heath."

Derek frowns, obviously not understanding the comment. I sigh, more embarrassed by the Doctor's lack of professionalism than by Derek's clear inability to take a hint. "Derek, this is Dr. Brown, my boyfriend's father and my doctor," I introduce, hoping he understands by my look that the man isn't polite at all.

"Conner, I've already told you to call me George!" he scolds affectionately. "After all, it's only fitting seeing as you and my son are '_an item_'." The last part is obviously directed to Derek, and I cringe.

"George, this is Derek. He's one of Stacey's favorite customers."

"You don't say!" Dr. Brown exclaims, enthusiastically shaking Derek's hand. Of course. The doctor is a 10-year patron of Stacey's Cafe, so any friend of Stacey's is a friend of his. "Pleased to meet you! What's your Stacey's poison?"

"Erm, black coffee," Derek answers. Dr. Brown wrinkles his nose.

"Doesn't have the best taste, does he?" he comments, walking over to the medicine cabinet on the wall. I give Derek an apologetic look and wave, politely dismissing him. Heath's father pretty much determined the day that he met me that I was too good to be true, which only meant I would end up cheating on Heath, so his attitude towards Derek isn't exactly personal, but I'd rather not expose more people to it than necessary. He's like this with every guy he sees me with. Derek nods and exits, leaving me with my father-in-law.

"And the blood tests?" I ask, changing the subject to one more medically-related.

"They came back looking beautiful," he assures me, flipping through the pages on his clipboard. "White blood count is only slightly elevated, red blood count is good, and your cholesterol is almost nonexistent." He smiles warmly. "Perfectly good health. Your symptoms are most likely just a result of your body fighting off infection."

"So there's nothing to be worried about?" I press. He laughs.

"Conner, just take a day or two to rest, and you'll be perfectly fine." He steps out and grabs the curtain. "Go ahead and go home, I'll take care of the paperwork."

"Thanks Dr. Brown."

Once he's gone, I pull off the hospital gown and get dressed again. That's an advantage of working at the hospital: less paperwork. In less than five minutes I'm walking out the hospital to my truck, which Jessie had the heart to drive to my apartment this morning. He's Heath's best friend, and a total sweetheart. He's pretty much the only male besides Heath that Dr. Brown trusts to have around me, and with good reason: Jessie's the biggest man whore you'll ever meet, but he's also the most loyal friend. He'd never make a move, and neither would I. It also doesn't make it harder that he is tall and lanky, not necessarily my type. If he happened to look more like, say, Heath or Derek, I don't think the doctor would trust me as much, even if I behaved like a saint around him.

Which is stupid. I'm not a cheater. I'd just as soon walk into the forest and howl for the Alpha before cheating on him.

Which I wouldn't do, either, because that would be stupid.

Obviously.

* * *

"Man, I've really done it this time."

"Dude, take it easy. She's just pissed right now."

"No, but I really, _really _think I messed things up."

"You can't have. It's Conner, for Pete's sake. You two are, like, made for each other."

"I don't know anymore, Jessie. Dad was saying she was with a guy at the hospital-"

"Stop right there. You know your dad's a gossip.

"-And Linda's been calling a lot more lately..."

Derek listened to the conversation between the two college students, rolling his eyes as he waited. It was ten o'clock and the cafe was shutting down after a good couple of hours of Open Mic singing. Conner had been too busy attending customers to notice that he was there, which was just as well: he didn't want her to start suspecting him any time soon. Of course he hadn't stuck around for the whole karaoke event; after listening to five minutes of the first volunteer sing "Don't Stop Believing", he'd left the shop, instead opting for a walk through the woods. The Hunters were also out looking for werewolves, so it was becoming increasingly difficult to search for the Alpha without being caught.

"Linda? Seriously?"

"It's not like that, Jessie."

"My ass it isn't. Whatever it is, put a stop to it, now. You don't find girls like Conner every day."

"What are you, her agent or something?"

"No, I'm your best friend, and it's my job to let you know when you're doing something stupid."

If the poor human only knew. Derek had gotten a look at her back injury, and Scott was right. Already it looked like a week of healing had passed, even if her skin was red and irritated, and she had told the doctor about night terrors. Night terrors were normal during a transformation. If his suspicions were correct and Conner had turned, then the fact that she hadn't gone running back into the so-named Heath's arms meant that she wouldn't. Most people's transformations were more than just physical; there were always the exceptions like Scott, who had little to no changes except that he possibly became even more obsessed with his girlfriend, but for the most part, their interests changed. He was already betting his money on her getting bored of her boyfriend and his crazy father.

The sound of heavy breathing reached him from the back of the building. It was time. Moving quickly and quietly, he made his way around the cafe and searched for the source of the sound. It sounded female and grunts of pain escaped between breaths, occasionally mixed with a whimper. Whoever was making the noise seemed to be in quite a lot of distress.

He found Conner quickly enough hiding in the shadow of the dumpster. She wore a work uniform of black pants and a black polo, but her purse slung over her shoulder indicated that she was already off the clock. Her head rested against the wall and she was curled over with her hands clutching at her stomach. Her arms shook and she seemed to be sweating, as well as completely unaware of his presence. He watched from a safe distance, and at first he thought she was crying. When she took a deep breath and then fell to the ground, however, he realized she was in pain. She was shifting. She gritted her teeth and dug her fingers into the dirt, trying to compose herself. She reached cement, and a crack sounded as she broke through it. He took a step forward, preparing to calm her down and for a panicked wolf fight. Scott hadn't fought him the first time he'd shifted, but he had the distinct feeling that this girl would.

Almost instantly a strong force collided into his side, knocking him to the ground. He rolled over and jumped to his feet, baring his fangs and extending his claws. Surely enough, the person that had hit him was another werewolf, an a pissed off one, at that. Conner exclaimed something, but he ignored her as he took in the small werewolf in front of him with the glowing blue eyes. He was small and scrawny, clearly a young werewolf, but also a natural-born wolf like himself. The werewolf growled, warning him that he had to leave.

Derek had expected the alpha to go after the girl, but apparently there were more players to take into account. Not a problem: a scrawny wannabe beta wasn't an issue to put back in place. He roared back, only to get cut off by the sound of a silenced gunshot. Pain exploded in his shoulder, blood blossoming into his shirt from the entry and exit points. He whorled around to attack whoever had shot him, counting on a fight of two on one. The beta took the opening and ran away.

Conner stood there, a pistol in her hands and pointed at him. She was still sweating and breathing heavily, but her hands and stare were completely steady as they focused on him. She should have been a wolf already, but she wasn't. She was just very, _very _pissed off. "Your leg goes next," she warned, not even bothering to raise her voice. She knew he'd hear her. "Good luck running away with a busted leg." Derek growled, and she narrowed her eyes. "There's another one where that wolf came from, and the next bullet has wolfsbane, so you can go ahead and try to pick a fight if you're feeling suicidal."

He let out a snarl and marched forward. Her tough girl act was just that: an act. Without hesitation she shot again, just barely giving him enough time to dodge so that the bullet only grazed his thigh. He fell to one knee and she took advantage, backing up several yards so that she was at the corner of the building and almost out of his sight.

"Whoever the hell you are, tell that Alpha friend of yours to back the hell off!" she ordered angrily, putting the safety back on her gun. "I'm an Omega, and I plan to stay that way." Without explaining any more she stuffed the gun into her purse and walked away, her quick strides giving away how nervous she was. An Omega? That would have to mean she was a werewolf, which she clearly hadn't been until possibly the night before. And yet, she knew enough to determine that he wasn't an alpha, and to know what an omega was. Even Scott didn't know what an omega was, and he was a werewolf! And why had that beta protected her?

The only positive thing he'd gotten out of the confrontation had to be that she also was against the Alpha. Then again, even that wasn't much of a groundbreaking truth: everyone and their mother was against the Alpha. Only now, she thought he was a part of the killer's pack, when he'd really been watching her all day to make sure she didn't eat somebody. Great. Just... Great.

* * *

**Hey guy, hope you enjoyed it :D Just in case, this takes place between episodes 3 and 4, after Scott knows Derek isn't the one killing people, but before Kate arrives.**

**And sorry about the lack of the page breaks!**


	3. Blackbird

**Author's Note:**

**Hey guys! So many people subscribed, and I'm so excited you guys are reading the story! It makes me unbelievably happy that I'm writing something you guys like to read! But, please, give me some feedback, it is greatly appreciated :) And who else is loving the side of Derek shown in the new episodes...? I know I am!**

**Enjoy :)**

* * *

So, Jeremy went and picked a fight with a full-grown werewolf last night.

Heath left flowers on my doorstep along with a letter in apology for ignoring my calls the other night.

Jessie sent me two text messages urging me to forgive him.

And now, courtesy of Jeremy and Keelan, my kitchen now has one less barstool to be sat in.

Just another normal day.

I'm running through my usual trail in the woods, my heart beating loudly in my ears and sweat pouring steadily out of my body. I missed my run yesterday, but I've fallen into the routine like I do every time, as if I have been running all my life. It's not too far from the truth, considering my brothers urged me to start jogging with them when I turned twelve, and since then, we'd jog every morning. It used to be our thing.

Now it's my thing.

I love these woods. They're not the same woods I used to run in with my family, but they're similar. Every now and then I come across couples escaping for a while or hikers looking for the creek, but for the most part, my morning runs are about finding some time alone. What with the animal attacks and all, even the occasional fellow jogger has disappeared. Hell, I'd disappear too if I thought there was a mountain lion loose in the woods.

But there isn't, and I know the Alpha isn't going to bother me right now.

I turn a bend in the trail, and am surprised to see someone several yards ahead of me. It's strange for anyone to be out here at nine in the morning, but it's even stranger that he's seemingly doing nothing. He's just standing in the middle of the trail, hands in his pockets as if he's waiting for someone. It's only once I get closer that I recognize him, and when I do, I feel no relief whatsoever.

Derek, the guy from the hospital. I'm sure he thinks I didn't notice him stop by Stacey's last night, but I did, and seeing him now only makes me more suspicious of him. He turns around as I approach, and surely enough he holds his ground, confirming what I had hoped to be a ridiculous assumption. He's waiting for me.

I don't bother with pleasantries as I slow down and stop a couple of feet away from him. "Stalking is either illegal or frowned upon in every single one of the fifty states, so you sure as hell had better have a good reason for being here," I say, my breathing heavy from the exercise, but not taking away from the warning in my voice. I don't take well to being followed, and this has just crossed the line between us running into each other being coincidence and being creepy.

His expression doesn't change, and it's much different from the friendly, albeit awkward guy I met at the hospital only the day before. He's serious and is looking down at me with cool confidence, as if trying to let me know who's in charge. In all honesty, I don't like this Derek too much at all, and glare shamelessly at him. He doesn't say anything for a minute and I don't back down.

"We need to talk," he finally says.

"About what?" I demand. He raises his brows.

"How about we start with the fact that you've caught the attention of the Alpha in town?" he suggests.

My stomach drops and I stop breathing for a second. He knows. Does he know about Keelan and Jeremy? Or the rest of my old pack? I ignore the ice sliding down my back and scoff. "Alpha?" I repeat. "What is that, some gangster code or something that guys with leather jackets use?"

"It's not a joke," he says calmly, "and don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about." I roll my eyes.

"Yeah, sure," I say sarcastically, shaking my head. "Look, I'm going to leave now. Ask Jeff to take your order next time you stop by the shop." I move around him quickly, but not so quickly that it seems suspicious. I hardly take four steps before he calls after me, saying the last thing I expected him to say.

"You know, it took me a while to heal after you shot me."

Of course he'd wait until I left my gun at home.

And of course the full-grown beta from last night would be my own personal stalker.

I let out a breath, cursing myself for being so damn clueless. I should have known that he was the wolf. Hell, my family would disown me again if they knew I'd let a beta get one up on me. I'm the daughter of an Alpha for God's sake! I hear him coming up behind me and I don't move, keeping my jaw set and my breathing steady.

"Do you really put wolfsbane in your bullets?"

I glare at him, no longer acting. "What the hell do you want?" I ask in a growl.

"To help," he answers. I narrow my eyes at him. "You're shifting, and you're going to need someone there to stop you from hurting anyone."

"I'm not turning," I state. He raises a brow.

"Really?" I nod. "So you didn't get mauled by the Alpha the other night."

"It was just a scratch!" I exclaim defensively.

"And it's not gone yet."

"I'm a fast healer."

"Not that fast." I groan, but he doesn't stop there. "Have you felt angry lately? So angry you think you might kill someone?"

"You'd be surprised what a good night's sleep and regular exercise does for the soul." He doesn't appreciate the humor at all, but I don't care. "Look, I mean it. I know what it looks like when someone's bitten and turns, and that's not what's going on."

"How do you know?" he challenges.

"That I'm not turning? I feel perfectly fine, and-"

"About us."

Of course he would want to know. "I can't say," I answer.

"Do you know one of us?"

I hold up my hands and take a step back. "Trust me Derek: when I say that I can't tell you, I mean it," I say, putting all of my sincerity into the statement. "There are things about me that I can't tell you, no matter how good your intentions."

"Are you protecting the beta?" he presses. This has already gone too far, and he's going into forbidden territory, asking about my cousins. Jeremy had tried to protect me when he realized there was a wolf around, but he's too young to be brought into the mess, even if he is stupid enough to jump into a fight with a full-grown wolf.

"Don't go there," I warn. I expect him to press the subject, but surprisingly he doesn't. He tones down the superiority and looks at me, those pale green eyes looking straight into mine.

"If you want to protect anyone, you need to learn control," he says, lowering his voice. "And we need to work together if we want to take down the Alpha."

"I just want to be left alone," I say honestly, frowning. "And who's 'we'?" He opens his mouth to answer, but hears something. I hear it too, and turn around with a confused look on my face as I hear people approaching. "Friends of yours?"

"Not exactly."

Three men approached then, rifles held in their hands and their eyes trained on Derek and me. I don't recognize any of them, but it's clear that they know Derek by the way that they sneer at him. The leader, a thin-faced man with bright blue eyes, looks at me curiously.

"Good morning," he greets, smiling at each of us. "Good day to go hunting, isn't it?"

"Not my sport," I answer with a smile in return as I scan the two henchmen. Something is off about them, and I can't quite place it. "What are you guys hunting?"

"Mountain lion," he answers, looking at Derek. His voice is one that commands authority, and I get the feeling he doesn't like Derek very much. "Haven't you two heard? There's an animal going around attacking people."

"Yeah, I heard about that," I comment carefully. "Is it legal to go hunting it, though? I thought mountain lions were protected."

"That stops mattering when it comes to protecting family," he says, but it comes out as more of a warning directed at Derek. Derek's jaw is tight, but he doesn't say anything. Something is going on here, and it's all unspoken, but very much present. "Oh, where are my manners? Chris Argent," he says, extending his hand. "I take it you're a friend of Derek's?"

"Conner Fitz," I respond, shaking his hand and ignoring the implication that Derek and I are friends. He has a firm grip, but so do I. I step back when he releases my hand, and can't help but notice that he doesn't bother introducing his two companions.

"You might know my daughter, Allison," Mr. Argent says friendlily. "She goes to the high school here." I shake my head.

"I graduated already," I explain. He raises his brows.

"So young?"

"Yeah, well, you know, advanced a year..." I trail off, not really wanting to explain it all to a stranger. I don't trust him farther than I can throw him, and he's setting all of my instincts on red alert. "I'll let you three get back to your hunting. It was a pleasure."

"You want us to give you a ride?" he suggests. "The car is parked not too far from-"

"She's with me," Derek cuts in, stepping up next to me. I wouldn't have accepted the ride from Mr. Argent, but I can't help but appreciate the save. Mr. Argent smiles knowingly and nods.

"You drive safely now," he says, and waves. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Conner Fitz." And with that, the three turn around and walk away. I stay where I am until they're out of ear shot, and then look at Derek.

"Okay, what was that?" I demand, pointing after them. "Everything he said was so laced with subtext, it's a miracle I could understand anything!"

"They're hunters," he replies. His jaw is still tight and he is clearly not happy at all about the encounter.

Just as I'm not happy about the news. "Hunters?" I repeat, my jaw dropping. He doesn't need to specify what kind in order for me to understand, and I want to slap myself in the face for not figuring it out myself. "Are you kidding me? We have an Alpha _and _hunters to worry about?"

"So it's 'we'?"

I realize my slip and throw up my hands. "Look, we don't have to be enemies," I surrender. "I'm not joining any packs or going after any hunters or any alphas, but it seems like we're on the same side here, and it's tiring to hate somebody." Before he can say anything, I hold up two fingers. "But catching up on our earlier argument. One. I'm not a werewolf." It's clearly a physical effort for him not to argue, but I don't take the chance that he'll say something and continue. "And two. The beta from last night?" He nods to show that he knows who I'm talking about. "He's untouchable, under all circumstances. If anyone so much as looks at him, I'm grabbing my gun and going wolf hunting."

"Anything else?" he asks sarcastically. I consider it and nod.

"Yeah. No more of this stalking. If you needs to talk to me, show up at my place like a normal person. I have a boyfriend, and I'd rather he not find out about my wolf-y background." He looks like he's trying not to say something, which gives me a bad feeling. "What is it?" I ask, instantly regretting the agreement to not hate him.

"Who's Linda?"

And that says it all. "Have you been spying on Heath?" I exclaim incredulously. He doesn't react. "How do you know about Linda?"

"That's not the point," he argues, the serious and superior look back on. Oh, how I'd love to smack it off his face. "Whether you want to accept that you're a wolf or not, you're an Omega surrounded by people who know nothing about us, and that's a death wish right now."

"I've been an Omega for a year," I say, not liking his condescending attitude. "I've gotten used to it, and I like being left alone."

"You're lying," he informs me calmly. "You need a pack. And now there's an Alpha that wants you in his, and you either join, or he kills you."

"What makes you so sure he wants me in his pack?" I challenge.

"Because otherwise, you'd be dead." I can't think of anything to say, and he takes advantage of my silence. "And now, I'm not the only one you have to worry about digging in to your business. The hunters have seen you with me, and they're going to find out everything they can about you. The best thing you can do for that kid is leave him before they take him out."

"What do you propose I do?" I snap. "According to you, I have to deal with hunters, an alpha, and imminent death, so enlighten me, what do you want me to do?" My situation seems more and more dire the more he talks, and it's setting me at my wits end.

"Get the beta out of Beacon Hills for now. He's too young to be any help." Seems reasonable enough. I'd pretty much decided I was going to do that the moment he told me there were hunters in town. "We stick together, and we'll be able to take him out."

"Who's we?" I ask tiredly, repeating my question from earlier.

"Believe me, you'll know soon enough." Before I can demand more details, he's turned around and is walking away.

"I'm not part of your pack!" I yell after him, just to make sure we're clear on that detail. He continues to walk away, not acknowledging what I've said, and making me wish I could go back to a week ago, when being an Omega was the only thing I had to worry about.

* * *

All it takes is a bullshit lie about it being my time of month to have the twins packing their bags. Jeremy and Keelan, my two twin cousins, seem to zip around the apartment in super-speed picking up their belongings, folding up the cots they leave here, and getting rid of any evidence of property damage. Heath arrives just as they're finishing up, greeting them with a warm smile.

I'm sitting at the kitchen counter with my laptop when Heath arrives. I don't like being at a disadvantage, so I've been google-ing "Derek Hale" and "accused of" to figure out if there's a criminal record I should know about. Five dollars says he's been accused of stalking before. Much to my frustration, however, I've had no luck at all in finding anything. After some digging I've managed to find a recent newspaper article, but Heath sits down next to me and I have to close the page.

"Investigating the Hale family?" he asks, an amused look on his face. Immediately my attention focuses in on him.

"You know them?" I ask eagerly. He hesitates, but nods.

"Knew," he corrects. "I haven't met Derek face-to-face, but his sister used to babysit me."

"Aw, that's so cute!" I exclaim. "Heath used to have a babysitter!" He rolls his eyes, and his expression becomes somber.

"Yeah... She died recently," he says, sadness in his voice. I gasp, unable to help it. Derek's sister died? "I found out about it yesterday at work."

"What happened?"

He shrugs. "Animal attack. Turns out she was the first victim." He frowns and crosses his arms, leaning them onto the counter. "They arrested her brother for it, though."

"Derek?" I clarify. He nods.

"Yeah. Part of her body was found buried outside the old Hale house ruins." I stay quiet and listen, not wanting to give away what the news means to me. "They let him out, but really, I wouldn't be surprised if the bastard did it."

"Why?" I try not to sound too appalled by his assumption, or the use of the word. Heath is normally the type to find the good in anybody, so it's strange to me that he would so easily say that a man went and killed his sister. It's clear that the subject is one he doesn't like, but he continues anyway, indulging what he must believe is simply my insatiable curiosity.

"Their whole family died in a fire six years ago," he explains. "He and Laura moved away afterwards, but really... Something like that marks a person. There has to be something wrong with him."

"Doesn't mean he killed his sister," I mutter.

"Doesn't mean he didn't."

I figure it's better to drop the subject, and decide to move into more peaceful territory. "So, are you working tonight?" I ask. He nods, grinning.

"Jessie and I got a gig across town," he says, clearly excited about it. "And you?"

"Hospital shift," I say with a shrug. "They'll most likely have me sing for the kids again and do some paperwork."

"You sure you up for that?" he asks concernedly. His worry brings an involuntary smile to my face and I lean forward.

"I faced down a wild animal and survived; I'm sure I can handle some kids."

* * *

I lied.

Don't get me wrong, I don't hate children. As a matter of fact, I love children. But sometimes... Last month one girl threw a block at my face that ended up cutting right into my eyebrow. Heath's dad had to give me two stitches! And last week, one kid threw up all over my lap. I mean, it happens (it's a frickin' hospital, for goodness' sake), but sometimes I just don't have the energy for it.

Today, however, on one of the days that I'm completely pumped up to go entertain the children? Nurse McCall pulls me to the side to tell me I've been relocated to a different hospital wing. The "home" part of the hospital, where all of the long-term patients stay. I don't complain, a job is a job, but as I push through the doors and step into the building? Silence. It's unnerving. A red-headed nurse is waiting for me, which is a very pleasant surprise, I have to admit. She helps me by giving me a brief tour, and gets me started doing rounds.

Now, about my job. I'm not a nurse: I'm part of the new holistic approach some of the doctors are trying to take to treating long-term patients. Patients who have family and friends visit them have a tendency to recover more smoothly than patients who are alone with only hospital personnel. So, that's where I come in. I come in for several hours every other day to visit different parts of the hospital where I'm needed, and do what I have to do to keep patients' spirits up. Children are easy to cheer up. For the most part, we all sit in a circle and sing songs; sometimes we do silly dancing.

It's these patients, however, that kill me. The elderly whose family members have all either passed away or moved on, leaving them to simply wait for death... It breaks my heart. So, I attack my job with a passion. The first patient I visit is a war vet, and I listen while he tells me war stories and gushes about how big his grandchildren have gotten. He's lost both of his legs, but the handicap doesn't seem to have affected his soul.

The second patient is an elderly woman, and she seems like she doesn't want to talk to me. She even goes so far as to insult me several times before I pick up a box of dominoes from the bedside table, and from that point out, it's like I've waved a magic wand. Turns out she was a champion in her home town. Of course, she beats me at every game, and I'd be lying if I said I let her win. The great-grandmother has crazy skills, and cackles like the witch from the Wizard of Oz every time she wins. It's actually quite hilarious, albeit embarrassing on my part that I've been so severely beaten.

And then there's my third patient. He's a burn victim from a house fire, and the nurse warns me that he hasn't spoken or reacted to anyone in six years. Even so, I walk in and smile at the man sitting in the wheelchair, staring off into nothing. The red-headed nurse closes the door behind me, and I sit down on his currently empty bed.

He's younger than the other long-term patients I've been to see today, and the unburned side of his face is actually quite handsome. He has bright blue eyes that stare into nothing, but something about him appeals to me. Normally these patients creep me out, and yet I feel drawn to this man and smile at him.

"Hi there Peter," I greet, using the only name the nurse gave me. "I'm Conner. Conner Fitz. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Normally I have a book on me for these situations, but today I only brought my guitar to play for the children. So, I pull that out, cross my legs, and after asking for his permission, start to strum out a simple song to sing to. My voice isn't a powerhouse like Whitney Houston's or anything, but I've been told it's soothing, and the nurses appreciate me singing lullabies to the babies and children. I don't know what song would be appropriate to sing to a comatose burn victim, so I sing the song my mother sang for me the last time I was hospitalized before she passed away.

_Blackbird singing in the dead of night_

_Take these broken wings and learn to fly_

_All your life_

_You were only waiting for this moment to arise..._

I get lost in the song and sing it on a loop for a couple of minutes. After a while, though, my fingers start to hurt and I stop. When I look up at him, his eyes are trained on the guitar, when I could have sworn he was staring at the wall a few minutes ago. Gulping down the nerves, I smile at him. "Beatles fan?" I ask conversationally. I wrinkle my nose. "Yeah, between you and me, I'm not. I mean, my brothers were semi-obsessed with them, and I like some songs, but..." I trail off and shrug. "Guess that's something else I didn't inherit."

Now I swear I see his eyes flicker away when I look at him. "Do you have any siblings?" I ask. Of course he doesn't answer. "I have four. I have two older brothers from my father's previous marriage, and my stepmother adopted two little girls a couple of years ago. The girls weren't too fond of me, but my brothers dragged me along everywhere." I chuckle. "I've heard it's supposed to be the other way around, but it just didn't happen that way."

The nurse opens the door, sees me talking to Peter, and smiles warmly. "Dr. Stanley says you can leave at eight," she says. I look at my watch: seven thirty. "Just stay here with Peter, the other patients are either in bed or getting their baths."

"And Peter?"

She smiles and shakes her head. "Stay with him. He needs the conversation more than sleep." And she leaves again, this time leaving the door open. That lady smiles way too much. I turn back to Peter, and he's still staring at the guitar.

"Well, apparently you need to hear more about me," I say, scratching the back of my head. "To start of, I'm still a minor, but I have my own apartment and I'm taking some online classes. Just general stuff until I decide exactly what it is I'm going to study. I live alone, but my cousins visit every other weekend, and I love that." I trail off, the things that I really want to say begging to be vocalized. He isn't going to tell anybody any time soon, is he? Even if he can hear me and understand what I'm saying, most of the time, all of the things that everyone's said jumbles up into a confused mess, and chances are that he'll write off any strange thing I say to confusion of all those memories. So, taking a look at him, I lean forward and start to talk.

"About a year ago, my family left me." There. I said it. To an unresponsive person, but it's a start. The words are heavy on my tongue, and I have to swallow and take a deep breath before continuing. "See, apparently my mother cheated on my father while she was living, so there's a very large chance I'm the other man's child. Dad kept it to himself, and I thought maybe the rumors were just that: rumors. But, the night of my birthday, they packed up their bags, and left after drugging me with sleeping pills."

I take a deep breath. Heath had heard rumors (they left because I got pregnant, the family was really a band of criminals, etc.) and never dared ask about it, so this is the first time I verbally tell someone what happened. "I miss them every day. So much, in spite of everything.

"Why am I telling you this? I met a guy recently." I pause, shaking my head. "Not like that. I already have a boyfriend with a large family and a huge heart. No, this guy... He has pain. He lost his family too, and seeing that somebody else lost a family in the blink of an eye... It's just brought all those memories back." I shrug. "I'm starting to see that, even with such great people around me... I don't have a pack." Realizing my slip, I reflexively try to fix my mistake. "As in, I'm all alone. You know, it's an expression.

"He's the first person in a while that insists I shouldn't stay alone, and I know he wants a pack again, but I don't think I know how not to consider myself an omega anymore." I don't bother explaining my use of the word this time. "I haven't felt the need to tell anyone before, but I'm starting with you." I clear my throat and grab my guitar again. "How about I play something a little more cheerful, and you keep my secret, huh?"

Of course, Peter still doesn't respond, and that's okay. Our conversation might just be the most honest human contact I've had in a whole year.

* * *

For most people, a girl walking alone at night is asking for trouble.

Well, it is. Last time I walked around alone at night, I got attacked by an Alpha. At least that time, the problem had been one as simple as my car running out of gas. Tonight, I have no idea what the hell happened to my car. Halfway home, it just turned off. I tried to start it again, but it didn't react at all, as if the battery was dead, which it isn't. I got a new battery just last month!

So, that's why I find myself walking home at night, my guitar case in hand and my backpack slung over my shoulder. It's starting to get cold and my jean jacket just isn't cutting it, but I don't know who I can call. Heath is playing at his concert with Jesse, and Stiles is at a lacrosse game, leaving me with nobody else to call. There's only ten more minutes left to walk now, so I suck it up and pick up the pace.

Then I hear it.

It's quiet, but it's very close by and freezes me in my tracks. My hair stands on end and my heart starts pounding loudly against my chest as the howl sounds through the night, coming from an alley down the road behind me. Without thinking much about it I throw my guitar into the woods and run, not bothering with pretending I haven't heard him. There aren't any cars out on this road, and quite frankly, I don't want to die tonight.

As I'm running I open my backpack and pull out my pistol, taking off the safety once I have it firmly in my grip. The Alpha howls again, louder and closer this time, and pick up speed, turning a corner onto my neighborhood's street.

Headlights blind me and I reflexively dodge to the side, rolling onto the sidewalk again. When I open my eyes I see a shiny black sports car skid to a halt, and the driver's door open. I open my mouth to yell for the driver to run away, when I see who it is.

"Derek?" I exclaim. He marches towards me.

"What the hell-?" He stops when we both hear a growl close by, and over his shoulder, I finally see it. My mother was an Alpha, but she didn't look anything like this creature. It's massive and dark, with a menacing face and sharp teeth, its eyes glowing red as it looks between Derek and me. Derek moves in front of me, and I swear I hear the Alpha chuckle.

_You can hide from me, but you can't hide from what you are._

His voice goes straight into my head, stabbing through my skull with an almost physical force. I cry out and grip my head as the pain shoots through it, making it impossible to think or run away. I hear movement around me and I know I should open my eyes and get out of here, but I simply can't.

Then, suddenly, the pain stops. I'm lying face-up on the sidewalk and there's silence save for the sound of Derek's car and my uneven breathing. Sweat has broken out over my skin and I feel even colder than before, a nasty side effect of having my mind messed with. Derek's face comes in to view, and with some difficulty, I manage to sit up.

The Alpha is gone. I can't sense him anywhere, and if Derek's calm is any indication, I think he's too far away to track. Derek offers me his hand and I gratefully accept it, getting to my shaky legs after a moment.

"What happened?" he demands. I shake my head, trying to pull myself together.

"My car broke down, so I was walking home." I notice that I still have my gun in my hand and I put the safety back on, then stick it inside my jacket. I'm not taking any more chances tonight. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for him," he answers, nodding in the direction that I guess the Alpha disappeared in. "Are you okay?"

I nod, rubbing my forehead. "Yeah, just a bit shaky." I take a look at his car and whistle. "Very subtle ride you have there."

"I'll take you home," he says, the words not a question, but a statement. I smile, but shake my head.

"Thanks. I'll take a rain check," I decline, waving a hand. He raises a brow.

"It's not exactly close by," he reminds me. "And the Alpha is still out there." I wave a hand.

"I mean it, thank you very much," I assure him, and start walking down the road.

"Why are you so against accepting help?" he calls after me. "You're weak on your own." I stop and look back at him, and as much as I hate it, I know the sadness is clear on my face.

"I'm an Omega. It's the way it is."

He doesn't follow me, and I walk the rest of the way home without any more threats on my life. But I'd be lying if I said his words didn't hit a part of me I've been trying to ignore ever since the morning I first woke up to an empty home.

* * *

**Post-Chapter Note:**

**For those of you upset that she isn't joining Derek immediately, be patient! And please, let me know what you think :)!**


	4. Wolfsbane and Burning Silence

**Author's Note:**

**While I am honored that anyone would subscribe to this story, and am grateful for everyone who has added this story to their favorites list, I need to be straight here. I'm feeling disheartened by the lack of reviews for the last two chapters, and just want to know if I should continue this story.**

**Read through this chapter please, and if at the end you find you want to read more, please let me know in a review. If I don't get much feedback at all, honestly, I think I'll drop this. Hope you guys like the chapter :)**

* * *

**A Couple of Days Later:**

I'm taking an online test when the buzzer sounds in my apartment.

Now, the thing about online tests is that the hour I'm sitting in front of the computer screen is sacred time. Heath knows this, as do my cousins and Jessie, who are the only people who actually visit on a regular basis. Hands poised over the computer keyboard, I consider pretending to not be home when I hear Stiles on the other side of the door.

"Conner! We have an emergency!" Stiles says, sounding agitated. I lower my hands and wait for the explanation he's most likely going to yell. "It's Derek-related!"

Unable to stop myself, I let out a stream of curse words before getting up from the bar stool. Seriously? Wolf emergency, now? Great, just great: Derek had to go and drag Stiles into the whole mess, didn't he? Surely enough, Stiles stands on the other side of the door and Derek is leaning against the rail next to him. Of course I'm not wearing a shirt, but Stiles should be used to it by now.

He isn't. Despite whatever "emergency" has pushed him to start knocking at my door at this obscene hour, he takes a second to remember how to form coherent words before sputtering the words "magic bullet" and gesturing at Derek.

"A magic bullet?" I repeat, and look at the wolf. Derek looks as pale as death and he seems weak, two things that can't be good signs. He's gripping his left arm in pain, and can hardly keep his eyes open. "What happened?" I ask him, pretty much accepting that Stiles is useless at the moment. Derek bites back a groan and doubles over.

"Let us in," he orders. Though I don't like being ordered around, taking into consideration the fact that there are hunters running loose around town, I ignore his natural alpha male attitude. I drape his right arm over my shoulder and use it as leverage to hold him up, wrapping my arm around his waist to keep him steady. He leans completely onto me, which only clues me in on how weak he must be feeling. Derek doesn't seem like the type to lean on somebody he doesn't know.

Stiles holds the door open, not taking Derek's other side like I expected him to. With more effort than I like to admit that it takes, I get him inside the apartment and sit him down on my bed. His head hangs forward and I grab his shoulders.

"Look at me," I order, keeping my voice firm and clear. He blinks and raises his eyes to meet my gaze, the action clearly an effort to do. "Good. Stay with me. What happened?"

"Hunter," he forces out, voice tight.

Shit. There goes my naive theory that wolves are safe so long as they behave. "Where?" I ask. He holds out his left arm, and it's a miracle I didn't notice it before. The bullet is wedged into the inner part of his arm, clearly a place it's been for well over a day. Around it the veins are darkened and the tissue is rotting, but the bullet glows a characteristic blue that gives away the problem. The smell of dying tissue hits me, but I close my eyes for a second and compose myself, blocking out the odor.

"Do we know what kind of wolfsbane it is?" I ask, looking up at Stiles. Derek doesn't seem like he can handle much more talking. Stiles checks his phone, and shakes his head.

"Scott's trying to find out what kind of bullet they used," he explains. I raise my brows.

"Scott McCall?" I clarify. He shrugs. "Where?"

"The Argents' house."

I realize I don't really want to know all of the details right now and just want to make sure the bullet wound gets taken care of. "Okay Stiles, I need you to go over to the refrigerator. There's a cabinet over it that's locked." I pull a set of keys out of my pocket and toss it to him. "Blue key. Inside, there's a large wooden box. Bring that to me." He rushes over to the refrigerator, stumbling on his way there in his hurry. I turn back to Derek and hold his face, making sure he stays conscious.

"Don't worry, I've treated wounds like this before," I say, loud enough for him to hear me. "If I have the right wolfsbane here, it shouldn't be a problem."

"Why...?" Derek asks breathily. I know his question without asking, but I don't answer.

Stiles returns with the box, and I wave him away. "Go to the counter, you'll kill him if you bring all of that over here," I warn. He follows my orders and puts the box on the counter. His cellphone beeps, and he slides it open to read the text.

"Nordic Blue Monkshood," he reads aloud. Derek groans, but I hurry over to the counter and open the wooden box. Inside are many bundles of various plants, all dried out so that their violet or blue blossoms are shriveled up. I start to pull them out and read the different labels until I find the one that I need, before throwing all of the plants back in and shutting the box.

"Stiles, get a pair of gloves from the drawer." As he's doing that, I grab my gun off the counter and release one of the bullets. He's at my side a second later, gloves in hand. "Good. Tear that plant up, and be careful not to get any on your skin. It's poisonous."

"Poisonous?" he exclaims. I give him a look, and he starts to tear the plant. Convinced he isn't going to wimp out on me, I twist the cap off of the bullet and knock it lightly on the counter so that the gun powder falls out. I do the same thing to a second bullet, just to be safe, and take the pieces of the flower from Stiles. I slide them across the counter with the gun powder and mix them together quickly.

"Hey, where are your gloves?" he demands, pointing at my bare hands. I pull my lighter out of my pocket and set fire to the small pile, just as Derek lets out a loud groan. When I look back, he's vomiting black liquid onto the floor. Not wasting any more time, I slide the powder into my hand and run over to him. He looks up and I nod, at which point he closes his eyes to brace himself. Not waiting for the powder to cool off, I turn my hand over and press it into the wound.

He roars in pain, his canines coming out halfway as his back arches and he falls back on the bed. I follow him, holding the wolfsbane to his wound and sitting on his stomach to keep him from writhing around. He digs his claws into the mattress and I know it's to keep from taking a swipe at me, but I don't move away. The dark veins that were running up his arm are slowly receding, and I need to make sure the wolfsbane stays in contact with the wound.

Two strong hands grab my upper arms and pull me off of him in one fluid motion. I'm caught by surprise and let Stiles drag me away, watching with wide eyes as Derek continues to scream. Stiles wraps his arms tightly around my waist to keep me from going to Derek, but I'm not fighting him: the wound is healing over, blue smoke rising from the bullet wound after the powder has already fallen away. His yells start to die down until he collapses on the bed, panting heavily and staring up at the ceiling.

Stiles and I are both frozen, until Stiles squeezes me tightly. "That was frickin' awesome!" he exclaims, lifting me up and spinning me around. I grip him tightly and laugh, the relief that's washing through me making me smile like a drug. For a moment there I'd thought it wouldn't work, but it had!

"It worked. Wow, I can't believe it worked!" I squeal. He puts me down and I jump on him, wrapping my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. "It worked!" He stumbles backwards, but I don't care and hold on to him tightly. "We did it, Stiles!"

"No, you did it!" he corrects, holding me up. I let go of him and jump back down to the ground, grinning from ear to ear like an idiot.

Which Derek doesn't hesitate to point out with an exasperated look from the bed. He's sitting up now, watching Stiles and me celebrate like mental patients. "So, you had no idea that it would work," he says, expecting me to clarify. I shrug.

"What, did you think I actually had Nordic Blue Monkshood?" I ask with a scoff. "That stuff is expensive. Nah, I used a similar plant from the same family. And it worked!"

"Thanks for using my life to test that theory."

"What, you would have preferred I chop your arm off? Please, if it hadn't worked, of course I would have cut it off myself to make sure you didn't die."

The whole atmosphere is starting to change, and Stiles makes a quick exit, saying that he's going to call Scott or something. I cross my arms and glare challengingly at Derek, daring him to say something else. When he doesn't, I do.

"I saved your life," I inform him. He nods.

"That you did."

"Normally that merits a thank you."

"Why did you do it?"

And then there's that question. I shrug. "Why not? Did you expect me to just leave you out on my porch for dead?" I pause, and run a hand though my hair. "Plus, you went and got Stiles involved. I couldn't just leave him to deal with you alone."

"You're lying."

"Why? Did my heart rate pick up?" I ask with mock surprise. We both know that it didn't, and he's getting more and more agitated with my calm attitude. I go over to the counter and pick up my box of wolfsbane plants, only to drop it a second later with a cry of pain. He's standing next to me in a second, his hand wrapped tightly around my wrist and holding it up so that he can see.

The palm of my hand is completely burned, bleeding in some places while the whole expanse is a searing red. Before I can object, he's dragging me to the sink and has stuck my hand under running water, holding it there when I try to pull it out.

"Why would you do that?" he demands again. I'm wincing as the cold water washes over my skin, and all I can do is shrug.

"I didn't think, I reacted."

"WHY?"

"Because my family, that I'm sure you've heard left a year ago?" I snap, yelling the words in his face. "They were werewolves. I'm human, but I've been raised to think just like a wolf. And the fact of the matter is that they may have made me an omega, but I can't get rid of my pack instinct. And this?" I hold my hand up, burned from grabbing the burning gun powder off of the counter and then pressing it into his wounds. "This is a necessary evil when you're part of a pack."

"So we're a pack."

"No! I mean, not really," I relent, dropping my forehead into my other hand. "Dammit, I don't know!"

"What's so damn confusing for you?" he exclaims in frustration. "Do you want to be an omega or not?" I jerk my hand out of his grip, realizing he's still holding it.

"I've gotten used to being alone!" I yell. "You're raised in a pack to live like a unit, and then that pack leaves overnight. So, instead of thinking about working for protection and power as a family, you focus only on one thing: survival. That's the life of an Omega." I look at him and shake my head. "So, yeah, it's a bit confusing for me when some beta comes offering help without an apparent price tag other than to kill a psychotic alpha that I'm no match for. It's suicide."

"So you would rather live like a coward."

"I refuse to have you stand here and judge me. I'm human, not a natural-born werewolf like you." I nod at the door. "Leave."

He stands there for a second before nodding and walking away. "Regardless, he's still coming for you. And he's going to keep killing people." Stiles starts to walk in but Derek drags him away, and I'm left alone. I look down at my hand and watch as the skin starts to blister, the burn throbbing unlike anything I've felt before. Who would have known gunpowder could cause that much damage?

Anyone with common sense, most likely.

And of course, I would burn myself for someone I hardly even know. Am I that damn desperate for a pack? I close my eyes and listen to the silence of the apartment. I'm used to yells, squeals of excitement from the girls, orders barked from my father, my mother or Susan calling for us from wherever they were. The television was hardly ever on before eight o'clock at night, but during the day my mother used to make sure music always filled the house, be it classical music or the soul music she was raised with. When Susan found out I liked soul, I remember she played Whitney Houston non-stop for a week, until we were all begging for mercy.

I hate the silence, and I hate the lie I tell myself every day: that I find it gratifying. That I can enjoy the silence.

I hate it. I hate the silence with passion.

* * *

Cans: the ideal target for target practice when Alphas aren't in high demand.

And shooting things: the workout of choice when insomnia is your psychosis of choice.

Heath and Jessie were able to fix my car up the other day- turns out a cable was pulled out or something stupid like that- so it's parked off to the side with the headlights illuminating from behind me as I aim at the beer cans I have set up on a beam. Yes, I actually have a beam set up in the forest: I come here often. I have the silencer twisted onto the barrel of the gun so that, when I shoot, nobody driving by is alerted of my soothing activity. Then again, not many people are going to be passing by. It's four o'clock in the morning, and this isn't exactly the most common of sports.

It's been a week since my last encounter with the Alpha and three days since I helped Derek out, and my medication has stopped helping me stay asleep. Nightmares of a devastating house fire have me waking up in a cold sweat, ironic because I can't seem to get the sensation of being burned out of my head, and ridiculous considering my burn isn't healing over too well. So, I've gotten back into the habit of either working out or shooting things to clear my head. Today, I'm in more of a sharpshooter kind of mood.

Although my hand is bandaged, I bite through the pain and shoot down the four cans in seconds, lowering the gun and breathing in the satisfying smell of gunpowder mixed with beer. Heath left two six packs in my refrigerator, so I figured I'd accept the gift and put the drinks to good use.

It's a bad sign when your boyfriend continuously forgets that you can't have any stimulants such as alcohol or coffee because it affects the medication you've been on since you've met. Not to mention it's _illegal._ But, I don't fight, and simply take the good with the bad. Beer is bad, but target practice is good, even if you can hardly curl your fingers because of the burns.

My cell phone rings, and putting the safety on the gun, I answer. "Yeah."

"Conner?" It's Heath, and he sounds like he's freaking out. "Conner, are you awake?"

"I couldn't sleep, what's going on?" I ask urgently. He lets out a shaky breath and I swear I hear him on the verge of tears.

"It's my dad," he says, taking a deep breath. "He's been attacked."

It's as if time stops. My whole body freezes and I can't stop a gasp from escaping me. The Alpha attacked Heath's father. Why the hell would he attack Heath's father? The man is a terrible gossip, but he'd never hurt a fly! I cover my mouth and stare off into the dark forest, listening. All I hear is my heart beating loudly and Heath's voice finally cracking on the other line.

"Babe, can you-?"

"I'll be there soon."

* * *

"Kate, we need to stop and think about this."

Kate Argent barked a laugh and loaded a clip of wolfsbane bullets into her gun. "Chris, what is there to talk about?" she asked her brother, turning to him with an exasperated look on her face. "It's simple. Alpha scratches girl, girl's suddenly hanging out with Derek Hale, and days later, her father-in-law shows up mauled in the parking lot of the hospital where they both work." She shrugged. "She needs to go."

"We don't have enough proof," Chris Argent insisted, but the fact of the matter was that he was also dressed to go out hunting. His men had confirmed that Conner Fitz had left her apartment an hour before the attack, and hadn't returned home yet. She was as much a suspect as the Alpha was at that point: new betas were always so volatile.

"Proof? Are you kidding me?" she exclaimed. Before Chris could argue, someone knocked on the garage door. Chris frowned; who the hell would knock on the garage door at four o'clock in the morning? Kate pulled the safety off her gun and pointed at the door while Chris checked the security camera.

A man in a brown leather jacket stood with his hands in his pockets, looking straight into the camera. With a cool confidence he waved, with the air of someone who knew the door would never be closed to him. And he was right. With a frown, Chris opened the garage door, letting the man in. Kate lowered her gun when she saw who it was, and smiled seductively at the man as he walked in.

He stood at almost six feet and had a strong build with wide shoulders. His skin was tanned from the outdoors, but what caught the most attention were his honey-colored eyes and burgundy-colored hair. His gun holster hung loosely at his waist, and Chris and Kate knew he had to have at least two other weapons hidden on his person. Hell, if they'd killed as many wolves as he had, they'd walk around loaded, too.

"Well well, if it isn't Roy Blackbird," Chris greeted. Roy smirked at Chris and shook his hand, slapping his shoulder fondly.

"Chris. Kate," he said, lowering his voice slightly when he addressed the latter. Kate smiled and, without warning, grabbed him by the back of his neck and locked lips with him. Chris diverted his gaze uncomfortably as Roy held her by the waist, kissing her back fiercely as if they were completely alone/ Roy was the one to pull back after a minute, giving Chris an apologetic look.

"It's been forever," he said, as if it was an excuse. With a wide grin, he nodded at the guns Kate had laid out on the table. "Hey, are we going hunting for that Alpha or what?"

"No, we're going after something a little bit smaller," Kate corrected, but both men could hear the excitement in her voice at the prospect of a new hunt. "A young beta the alpha turned recently just killed her father in law. You ready to prove that you never miss a target?"

"A new beta?" Roy repeated, looking curiously at Chris as he wandered over to the table. "Are we sure she's been turned?" Chris gave Kate an admonishing look.

"Conner Fitz, emancipated teen and online college student living alone," he began, giving the target profile to the fellow hunter. "She was attacked by the alpha recently and left alive, but with claw marks torn across her back. She's already healed and has been seen associating with Derek Hale, another beta." He crossed his arms and frowned as Roy calmly inspected the guns, using far too much familiarity when handling them. "When we interviewed her boyfriend's father, he said that he'd seen Derek Hale at her apartment, and was going to tell his son she was cheating." He shrugged. "Within hours, Conner goes out for a drive, and he shows up mauled in the hospital parking lot."

Roy let out a low whistle. "That sounds awfully suspicious," he commented casually. "Did you say her name is Conner _Fitz_?"

"Records say she changed her name a year ago," Kate added. "We're still waiting on the background profile." Roy let out a sigh. "What? We don't need to know her real name to know that she needs to-!"

"Her real name is Conner Daniels, named Conner because ironically, one of its meanings is 'lover of hounds', and we're not going to kill her," Roy interrupted, pointing the assault rifle as a target on the wall and looking through the scope. "She has partial immunity to werewolf venom, so she can't have been turned by a scratch, and I highly doubt she killed her boyfriend's daddy."

"And how would you know that?" Kate challenged. Roy lowered the gun and grabbed Kate's chin, chuckling and shaking his head.

"Because, my dear Kate," he began, inching his face closer to hers, "that girl is my daughter, and if she turns out to be a werewolf, it won't be your business because I'll put a bullet in her head myself."

* * *

"Derek!"

When I get no answer, I push the front door open and storm inside, listening for him. Still getting no answer, I yell again. "Derek! Where are you?"

"What do you want?"

I whorl around as Derek steps up to the front porch. He looks upset about something, but I don't have time to ask about what it is and walk up to him. "I'm in."

"What?" he asks irritably.

"I'm in," I repeat, more forcefully this time. "To kill this alpha son of a bitch. I'll help you do whatever the hell you want, just as long as I get the chance to help kill him."

He doesn't seem relieved by me accepting the expired invitation and walks past, not even looking at me. "You said yourself that you're only human," he reminds me. Even if he sounds cold, I know he's just testing to make sure that I'm certain.

"Exactly." He stops and raises his eyebrow, finally meeting my gaze. "I'm human. He tried to turn me, but it didn't work, which means..."

"He's going to try again," he finishes. "With a bite." I nod. "So, you want to use yourself as bait?"

"Only if you have another werewolf to help you out," I relent, holding up my hands. "While I'm sure you're a bad-ass werewolf on your own, we need this to be fool-proof. Do you know anyone?"

He pauses and, after a moment, nods his head. "We have to convince Scott."

"Scott?" I exclaim. "Seriously? He's not exactly the brightest crayon in the box."

Derek shrugs. "Do you have any better ideas?" I sigh and shake my head. "Alright. How do you propose we proceed?"

"Tonight we'll talk about it." I pull my car keys out of my pocket and look out the door. It's five thirty, and the sky is already turning lighter. "I have someplace to be." He nods and I start to walk away, but his voice stops me for a second.

"What changed your mind?"

Loneliness.

Desperation.

**Fear.**

I look at him over my shoulder, seeing him differently for a second. He stands in the ruins of the house where his family burned alive, and seems to carry that unseen weight on his shoulders. I can see the same shadow in him that's slowly growing in me, and I wonder if he sees it, too. "Same reason you're here," I answer, turning away. "I'm no hero, but he just made this personal."

* * *

**Post-Chapter Note:**

**So, let me know, guys...**


	5. Start of a Lasting Partnership

**Author's Note:**

**Guys, thanks so much... I've just been having a tough two weeks (transferring colleges, permanently moving a thousand miles away from home, etc), but you guys definitely brought me back :) So, my inspiration has returned, and I will continue to write this story! Thanks to all of you who follow this story, and particularly to you guys who wrote to urge me to continue writing. It means the world to me.**

**Enjoy :)**

* * *

The bright side of teenage delinquency is that the cops are too focused on keeping us out of drugs and away from drinking to pay much attention to me trying to purchase firearms.

Wesley and I have had an agreement for the better part of two years. Even before my family left I was interested in firearms, and when I became and omega and the need arose for wolfsbane bullets, he was eager to become my supplier. Apparently there isn't much demand for poisoned bullets in Beacon Hills.

Pity. It would make life so much easier if I could just buy a pack at Wal-Mart.

I'm sitting in the driver's seat of my truck, seat reclined as far back as it will go and feet propped up on the dashboard. I'm dressed down in shorts and an over-sized sweatshirt, as is my right on a day like today. It's my only day off, and all I really want to do is relax. But, considering the fact that the Alpha attacked a man in a video store last night, and he's desperate to make Scott and me a part of his pack, I need to stock up on the wolfsbane. So, I'm parked out on the middle of the forest, a half mile from where I normally practice shooting, truck turned off and the radio playing some soft country song. I see a van approaching and immediately sit up, lowering my feet and putting a hand to my gun.

Wesley drives a Mazda. What the hell is a white van doing here instead of him?

I'm about to start my car when a man sticks his head out of the driver's window, waving for me to not leave. "Wesley asked me to cover for the day!" the man yells, smiling sheepishly. "I should have called, my bad!"

I narrow my eyes suspiciously at him, but he's all smiles as he parks the van in front of my truck, just like Wesley normally does. He quickly flashes the headlights at me three times quickly, and then a fourth time after a pause. Perfect: It's the signal that he isn't wired or anything, on the off-chance he starts getting tailed by police.

Convinced, I get out of the car and meet him halfway, sizing him up as I approach. The guy's big, that's the first thing I notice. Well, not enormous or anything, but pretty tall, and with broad shoulders, which would make him difficult to fight if need be. He's wearing a brown leather jacket over a gray t-shirt and faded jeans, casual enough attire for a business deal like this. He has light brown eyes and thick eyelashes, not to mention the whitest set of teeth I think I've ever seen. He stops a couple of feet away and jabs a thumb at the van.

"Should I bring the stuff out?" he asks friendlily. I nod, and he disappears around the truck to get the cases. Not even a minute later he's back, carrying two large black cases under his arms. He sets them up on the hood of the van and opens the first one. In it is the normal assortment of bullets Wesley brings me, as well as the small plastic bags filled with the poisons and gun powder. It looks like drugs and bullets, but I know better.

"Do you know what you're looking for?"

I pull out a plastic box out from between the others, and examine the bullets nestled inside. They're the perfect kinds for putting wolfsbane in, and for that, I always keep several clips of these bullets at home. "I've got it," I assure him, and pull out three other boxes. "I'll take these and three packets of the wolfsbane infused gunpowder."

"Coming right up," he says, taking the three bags of gunpowder and sealing them in another larger plastic bag. "Hunter, are you?"

I take the money out of my back pocket and put it on the case. I always buy the same thing, so I know exactly how much it costs. "Wesley and I have an understanding," I inform him calmly, taking the gunpowder from him. "No personal questions."

"Okay, okay," he surrenders, trying to break the tension. "My bad. Just trying to get to know the customers." I nod and start to walk away, but he opens the second case with a snap, and I stop. "You know, if you're going after werewolves, I might have something that could interest you."

When I turn around he's holding up a strange device with leather straps dangling from it. I ignore the weapon (whatever it is) and glare at him. It's no surprise to me that someone's figured out that the wolfsbane is for werewolves, but I don't know who he is, therefore I don't trust him. "Did Wesley really ask you to cover for him?" I demand.

"Wesley is moving to New York," the dealer explains, casually shrugging a shoulder. "He asked me to take over his customer base, which is mainly composed of hunters like yourself asking for wolfsbane and silver bullets."

I narrow my eyes at him. "Silver doesn't work."

"A man has to make a living, honey." I roll my eyes and start to walk away, but he's not having it. "This baby has much more flexibility with ammunition than your little hand gun," he says, nodding at the gun hanging from my waist. I shake my head, not bothering to turn around.

"I've met my budget," I state, knowing that the words are always a conversation-closer with Wesley. He laughs.

"At least try it out!" he insists. "Come on. I really think you're going to like it." When I still don't pay much attention, he adds, "One shot from this saved my life from an alpha in '02. The second shot killed it."

And at that point, I'm lost.

* * *

The projectile explodes upon impact with the tree, bursting with white and blue light and leaving a scorch mark that had to be at least three feet in diameter. The spray-painted target has been completely wiped out of existence. I can't help but let out an excited yell and the man claps in praise, brows raised as he lets out a low whistle.

"With that, you blind the werewolf _and_ make it hurt," he says, holding up one of the small explosives. It's hardly any thicker than a bullet, but it's very strong, and is just big enough that it won't load into my gun. "I sell them individually and by the round. The advantage over a crossbow is that you don't need to load every time you shoot, and..." He walks to my side and pulls down the sleeve of my jacket. "... It's perfectly concealable."

"Why didn't it burn me?" I ask excitedly. Normally gun generate heat strong enough to burn you if you place your hand too close to the barrel, but this gun, laid flat against my forearms, didn't. He grins proudly.

"Compressed air, like an air soft gun," he explains. "It's for close range only, and the projectiles carry all the punch the weapon needs."

"It's like something out of a sci-fi film," I comment, pulling back my sleeve to look at it. It honestly looks like someone stuck the barrel of a gun on a leather arm guard, but for the past half hour, he's been showing me that it's much more versatile than that. It attaches onto the forearm and, when activated, lowers the barrel so it rests at the top of the wrist. The trigger is right behind the barrel, and simply needs to be pulled for the weapon to fire.

"It's not your go-to weapon, but it's definitely a good last resort," he explains. "That harness is a little on the large side, but I should have a smaller one in the van that would fit more comfortably."

My smile fades slightly, and I start to unbuckle the weapon. "It's amazing, it really is," I assure him, "but I simply can't afford this right now." I give it back to him, and he accepts it.

"That's too bad," he admits, walking back to the van. He'd opened the side door and started to go through all of the weaponry and ammunition he carries, and looking at my watch, I realize we've been here for the better part of an hour. Normally it doesn't take more than seven minutes to complete a deal. I know. I've counted. He lifts a black leather harness out of a case and detaches the gun we've been playing with, reattaching it to the black harness. Without explaining, he gives it back to me. I give him a questioning look and he smirks.

"Consider it a welcoming gift, in hopes that we'll continue to do business together," he says, winking. I look down at the weapon, unable to believe what he's saying.

"I can't accept this," I begin, but he holds up a hand to cut me off.

"It's not entirely selfless," he admits. "I built it myself several years ago, but I've made some modifications recently, and I want to know how she works on the field before trying to get any profit." He smiles. "You help me, I help you."

"... Are you sure?" I ask. Truthfully, I'm really hoping he says that he is: I've fallen in love with the emergency weapon. He reaches forward and ruffles my hair.

"Go kill a werewolf or something," he mutters, closing the van door. I feel like a little kid by the affectionate gesture, one that my brothers used to do to me all of the time. It pulls at an emotion in me, but I swallow it down and hold out my hand.

"I'm Conner Daniels." I use my ID from before the name changed when doing such dealings as firearms. He smiles friendlily and puts his hand in mine, shaking it firmly.

"Roy. Roy Blackbird." He climbs into his van and closes the door behind him. "And I believe that this is only the beginning of a lasting partnership.

* * *

There are certain surprises you fear greeting upon opening the door to your apartment.

A robbery.

A flood.

Something knocked over by the wind.

But every now and then, you get surprised.

I push open the front door, and find none of these things. Relieved, I toss my backpack on the counter and pull my sweatshirt over my head, glad to be free of the clothing, even if I'm wearing a tube top underneath. I haven't done much today, but my hand's killing me and I'm ready for a good couple hours of sitting in front of the television. I turn on the light and my heart jumps into my throat when I see I'm not alone.

Derek Hale is sitting on my bed, sans shirt, with a pissed off expression and an explanation on the tip of his tongue. Regardless, I can't help but gasp and whip out my gun, reflexes taking over. Luckily Derek holds up his hands and doesn't dive to get the gun away from me- otherwise, I know I would have fired. "I can explain!" he hisses. I lower the gun and grip my heart with my other hand, taking deep, calming breaths.

"You almost gave me a heart attack!" I yell once I've composed myself. "How the hell did you get in here?"

"Spare key under the mat?" he tries. I roll my eyes and slip my gun back into its harness.

"I don't have a spare key," I inform him. I realize I don't have a shirt on and swear, crossing my arms. "Geez, could you have taken any longer to announce yourself?" I mutter, grabbing my sweatshirt off the floor. "Creep." His jaw drops slightly and he throws up a hand exasperatedly.

"It's not like you gave me much time to say anything," he argues. "You were barely in the door when you were taking your shirt off!"

"I live alone!" I notice that he isn't wearing a shirt and cover my eyes. "And by God, do I want to know why you aren't wearing a shirt?"

"Hunters showed up at my house." I take my hand away from my eyes and he's smiling dryly. "Grabbing a shirt wasn't exactly at the top of my to-do list."

"Are you okay?" I ask, all worry about clothing gone. He nods and sits down on the bed. I'm sitting next to him in a second, looking him over even if he's assured me that he's fine. His jeans are covered in dust and dirt- more than normal, at least. "Which hunters?"

"Kate Argent," he answers. Even I sense the strong history, but I don't press the subject. "She wanted to find out if I know where the Alpha is."

"And you came here?"

He doesn't answer, but I know what it is: he doesn't have anyone else. I wonder if he knows just how much I can understand the feeling. He's sitting very close and is searching my face for something, his blue eyes intensely focused on mine. I lower my gaze, which is a problem because all I see is a strong body that now even clothes won't be able to shield from my memory. Immediately I look away, focusing my eyes on the television.

Mentally I slap myself. I'm not that girl that's going to fawn over the first shirtless man to wander into her apartment, even if he is strong, like we're taught as female wolves to expect out of our men. Derek's a werewolf, and therefore someone I share an understanding with; but, more importantly, Heath is my boyfriend, and he's sitting in the hospital right now next to his father, who's fighting for his life from an Alpha attack.

I clear my throat and stand up. "Heath should have left one of his shirts around here," I say, walking over to the closet. It's a walk-in (strange, considering I don't even have a bedroom in this apartment), and Heath has lately gotten into the habit of changing his clothes here. I know he's really just waiting for me to let him spend the night, but that's not going to happen. Maybe it's a small thing, but I don't believe in sleeping with people in a dishonest relationship, such as Heath and I have, where I don't let him in on the little fact that I was raised in a pack, not necessarily a family.

I find a jersey and toss it to him. He catches it easily and puts it on. It's a fan jersey for some basketball team I haven't ever had the time or interest to follow, but it looks good on him. Which is something I'm not going to say out loud. Ever.

"Have you eaten?" I ask. He shakes his head and I make my way to the kitchen. "Hope you like chicken." He nods and, for the first time in a really long time, I start to make dinner for more than one person. He sits at the counter watching me, and in all honesty, it doesn't make me anxious at all. The way he's looking at me isn't sexual or clinical. If anything, it feels like he isn't seeing me at all. Then again, if it's been this long since I cook for somebody, I wonder how long it's been since somebody cooks for him.

I also wonder how long it's been since I give a flying leap about such trivial things.

* * *

**Two Days Later:**

Anyone that isn't directly related to patients in the hospital's ICU is normally not allowed to visit the patient; but when the patient is a doctor that works at the hospital and he asks to see his son's girlfriend, he gets to see his son's girlfriend.

Heath's at work and Mrs. Brown is at home resting, so I'm the only one in the room when I tentatively walk inside. Dr. Brown is laying down in the bed, almost completely covered in bandages, save for his face, which only has a small scratch on the lip. His leg is broken and the cast is held up by a sling, as well as his right arm and shoulder, which are held at an angle facing away from his body. Even if I'm sure that the place is being kept spotless, I can't help but smell the blood, and have to swallow to keep from gagging.

It's one thing to see a wolf like this, and know they're going to heal. It's another thing entirely to look at a man and know that he's either going to become a werewolf or die, and we all know that it becomes more and more difficult to turn the older you get. He opens his eyes as I walk in, and he smiles tightly.

"Conner," he greets, his voice rough. I hurry to his bedside and pour him a glass of water, which he gratefully accepts when I hold it up to his mouth. He drinks slowly, but gratefully, and once he's finished drinking, I sit down in the chair next to him. I want to ask how he's feeling, but I know that's a stupid question. He hasn't just been attacked, he's been mauled, and it's partly my fault that he's like this in the first place.

"Do you want me to sing you a song?"

Something that resembles a laugh rumbles in his throat, and I smile sadly. The doctor who started the program I work with is a rival of his, and he's always made jokes about what it is that I do at the hospital. I've never taken it personally, though. "I... wanted to... talk to you," he says instead, closing his eyes. "It's... about... Derek."

"Derek Hale?" I clarify. Because he can't move his head, he squeezes his eyes shut to confirm. "Dr. Brown, I told you, there's nothing going on between us."

"When... you're facing death in the face..." He takes a shaky breath, and a tear rolls out from the corner of his eye. "You start to think of... your regrets." A part of me wants to comfort him, but it's clear that it's painful for him to speak, so I stay quiet and listen. "You're... taking care of Derek Hale's uncle." When I frown, he explains. "The burn victim."

Metaphoric slap to the face and my pride. "Peter... _Hale_?" I say tentatively, hoping he says no. Of course he says a raspy "yes".

"Tell him..." He trails off, wincing in pain. A couple of seconds later, he composes himself and looks at me. "Tell him I'm sorry." I nod, a million questions running through my head and none of them reaching my mouth. He smiles sadly and closes his eyes in dismissal. "Goodbye, Conner."

I stand up and walk to the door. My hand hovers over the handle, something that I feel needs to be said preventing me from leaving. Taking a deep breath, I look over my shoulder at him. "I know you don't like me," I state, looking him straight in the eyes when he opens them. "I've known it since you first laid eyes on me. But I've never cared much, because I care about your son, and I swear that I've been faithful to him this whole time."

"I'm sorry... But I don't believe you," he says, no remorse at all in his voice. "Just like... Hannah didn't believe me." Hannah, his wife. "And she was right... Just like I'm right... about you. You and Derek... share something. Sometimes, you're with the... wrong person, and you... are the last to find out."

I can't listen to another word. I wrench open the door and run, dodging between nurses and doctors until my feet stop outside a door. Without considering the weight of my actions, I push the door open and lock it behind me. I lay my back flat against the door, sliding to the floor as I gulp in hospital air, trying to calm down.

It isn't working.

Heath is someone I've cared deeply about for a long time, ever since that first awkward date I agreed to just to keep up appearances. He gives of himself without holding back, and though he has his flaws, I know he cares about me, too. Peter Hale is sitting in his wheelchair facing the door, his empty eyes somehow looking at me. I can't take it any longer and, next thing I know, hot tears are pouring down my face, and I'm telling yet another secret to this man who can't speak to me.

"I don't love Derek," I whisper. "I hardly know him. But George is right. I don't love Heath. I can't, not when he doesn't know what I am." I lower my head onto my knees, digging my fingers into my jeans for dear life. "But I can't leave him, either. His father's dying, and I'd be the worst kind of person to leave him alone now." Peter simply stares at the space in front of me. I sigh, running a hand through my hair. This just ridiculous. I wipe the tears off of my face and drop my head back, looking at him with a raised brow.

"So, I hear you're Derek's uncle," I comment. "No wonder you're so quiet."

Frantic footsteps pound down the hallway and I hear snippets of the conversation thrown between the nurses. It doesn't take a genius to realize what's happening, so with a sad smile, I look up at the man I've possibly been the most honest with in my whole life.

"Dr. Brown says he's sorry," I say, closing my eyes again. "May he rest in peace."

* * *

I'm pulling into my apartment complex several hours later to get ready for work when my phone rings from the passenger seat. Seeing it's Stiles, I answer, putting him on speaker phone. "Hey, what's up?"

"Conner! Conner, we're locked in the school!" Stiles yells, panting between words. It sounds like he's running, but I can't understand what his panic is about. "It's the Alpha! He's here at the school, and he's trying to kill us!"

"What?" I exclaim. The Alpha, going after Stiles and Scott? Why the hell would he be doing that? "What's going on?"

Even as I'm asking the question, I'm running up the stairs to my apartment. If I'm going to be of any help, I need more protection than just my handgun. "Scott called him out to the school because Derek thought Scott's boss was the Alpha, and Derek was going to kill him, so-"

"Alright, alright, you guys hide in a bathroom or something," I cut off. "Take the volume off your phone and wait for my call. Is anyone else there?"

"No, it's just Scott and me." He's lowered his voice and is whispering now.

"What about Derek?" I push open the door to my apartment and bolt for the closet, not even bothering to close the door behind me. I change out of my dress shoes and slip on a pair of sneakers as I'm pulling my blazer and shirt off. I pull on a loose tank top, knowing that if the Alpha takes a swipe at me, no amount of clothing will protect my skin.

"He's... unavailable right now."

I roll my eyes as I grab my weapon's case off the floor and stride out of my apartment. "No shit," I say sarcastically. "You guys are being stalked by an Alpha. I'd be unavailable, too. I mean, is he stuck in the school with you guys, or did he get out?"

"He's... out," Stiles answers carefully. I don't have time to pick apart what he's hiding, so I hang up with the promise to be there soon and climb into my truck. I'm still wearing the arm gun that Roy Blackbird gave me, and I check the clip quickly.

Hopefully the two bullets will bring me as much luck as they brought him with the Alpha in '98.

* * *

**Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter :D And I'm so excited for the episode tomorrow...!**


	6. Fight or Flight and a Bite

**Author's Note:**

**Okay, that's it. I have to ask: which pack are you guys rooting for? Scott's pack or Derek's? Ha ha anyways, thanks for the feedback guys :) I think I got back to all of you except for the anonymous reviews, but either way, thanks to everyone for the reviews! I'm still not sure how this new comments format works, but it seems like we're able to leave comments from any website. Which has to be one of the coolest things ever ha ha... Anyways, can't wait to hear what you guys think :)! Should have the next chapter out by Monday! Everyone have a great weekend, and take care!**

* * *

As it turns out, I don't know the first thing about hunting down a werewolf. I park out by the side entrance of the high school where Stiles' Jeep and Derek's car are, and am surprised to see a third, expensive-looking Porsche parked here, too. Stiles had said it was only him and Scott in the school, but I highly doubt the Alpha drives a Porsche to go around killing people. The car is _way _too conspicuous. Grabbing my silver pistol, I take the safety off and dial Stiles' number.

He picks up on the third ring. "Conner, where are you?"

"Parked out front. Status report?" I ask, scanning the area. No sign of glowing red eyes filled with murderous intent. Even if I can't see the werewolf anywhere, I feel my heart rate pick up, the fear threatening to sneak in. I haven't exactly had the best luck facing off with this Alpha, and I'm starting to remember how much pain his claw marks caused on my back.

"We don't know where he is, but Scott just left to get the keys to the roof so we can escape," he explains quickly. "We're in the chemistry classroom."

"Wait, Scott's out where the Alpha can get him?" I clarify. "As in, the Alpha that can manipulate Scott's mind like he's his boss, and make him kill you?"

Stiles sighs. I get the feeling that a lot has happened in the twenty minutes it took me to get to the school from my apartment. Scott plus the killer Alpha is not a good combination, so I switch the clip of wolfsbane bullets loaded in my gun with harmless standard bullets, enough to incapacitate Scott if he comes at me, but not enough to kill him.

"Wait, is that Conner _Fitz_?" a male voice asks from the background. "The chick with the gun?"

I groan and roll my eyes. Of course there would be more teenagers. "How many of you are there?" I ask, afraid to hear his answer. And yeah, I've gotten used to being referred to as "the chick with the gun" by now. Apparently it's all people see when I walk in the room.

"Well, uh, there may kinda sorta be three more of us now?"

"Three-?" A roar coming from inside the building cuts me off, and I choke on my words.

I grew up with the sound of howling, and learned at a young age the basic differences between the different types of howls. Without being a werewolf myself, I learned to listen and hear when my brothers were simply calling each other, and when I had to run for my life. The hair-raising roar coming from inside the school... that wasn't the Alpha, that was Scott, and it was a sound made out of pure animal instinct. With flashbacks of Jeremy's first bad full moon, I pull my black jacket on to partially hide the gun harnesses, grab my backpack, and run out of my car.

"I'm going for Scott," I inform Stiles, and snap the phone shut.

As I'm running up the stairs, my heart isn't racing and my jaw isn't tight because of Scott. Scott is a new beta, and I've had plenty of practice with beta's by putting Jeremy down during bad full moons; they lose control and run purely on instinct, an instinct I understand, therefore making them predictable. No, I'm not worried about Scott at all...

It's the Alpha.

The halls are dark and empty, so I pull a flashlight out of my backpack and hold it parallel with my gun using my left hand. I move quietly down the hall, listening and trying to go as quickly as I can. The school is in complete silence now, a physical force vibrating through the air and making it hard to breathe. I make my way towards where I remember the chemistry classroom is, hoping I can stop Scott before he gets to his friends.

See, that's the thing about baby betas that aren't born into a pack. There's always some strange initiation. Some more modern alphas simply demand the betas swear their loyalty to the pack, while others require some sort of offering to benefit the pack. This Alpha demands the more primitive initiation: elimination of the previous pack, hunting together. He's a killer, which is why I'm worried about Scott. Scott's young. If he gives in to the instinct at such a young age, what will happen to him in the future? He didn't have a choice when it came to getting bitten, just like I don't have a choice about who my father is.

And yet we both pay the price anyway, don't we?

I want to call out and wait to see if anyone responds, but training tells me not to. If I stay calm and move quickly, I'll find him. The gymnasium comes into view, and as I step through the double doors, I freeze. The lights are all off save for an emergency light in the middle of the room. The bleachers are all pushed back, and as I sweep my flashlight back and forth, I see there's nobody here.

But the smell of blood reaches me as strong as ever.

Moving very slowly, I step into the gym. The basketball hoop looms over me as I move along the borders of the circle of light, scanning around for any signs of movement. My fear starts to play games and I find my heart skipping at the sound of my own breath, sweat trickling down my face as the nerves set in. The beam of light from my flashlight starts to shake, and with horror I realize that my hands are shaking. When training, my brothers always made it very clear: shaking hands meant certain death. My hands never shook until now. Something is off about this whole thing, and I'm terrified. The Alpha isn't going to kill me, but if Dr. Brown's death has taught me anything, it's that one bite is really all that it takes.

You either become an animal, or die.

Footsteps come from behind me and I whorl around, aiming my gun at the person. "Stay away!" I yell, stumbling several steps back. "Scott, I mean it!" In the darkness I can't make out his face, but it only takes a second to see that it isn't Scott. The stranger stands tall and is very clearly naked, but stays just enough in the darkness that I can't make out any identifiable details. He's looking at me, his head cocked to the side ever so slightly.

"Hello, Conner," he greets. His eyes glow red, and with a grin he moves forward. "We need to talk," the Alpha calls in a sing-song voice. I ignore him and run for the other gym exit, arms outstretched to push it forward. My hands collide with the handle, but the door doesn't budge, even when I shake it. Of course, the crow bar wrapped around the door handles could have something to do with it. I curse and turn around, looking for a way out. The Alpha stands a couple of yards away, making no move to advance towards me or to shift. In his human confidence, he has a point. Even in his human form, he's stronger than I am. Running isn't going to accomplish anything, nor is shooting at him, not when my hands are shaking.

"What do you want?" I demand, stepping away from the door. He chuckles and matches each step I take, never moving quicker than I do.

"I thought it would be obvious by now," he answers calmly, his voice smooth and rich. Under any other circumstance, I may have admired the cadences that rang in his words, but this isn't one of those circumstances. "As you know, we're social creatures by nature."

"Oh yeah, I'd know about that, being a human and all," I snap sarcastically.

"Conner, you can play dumb, but we both know that your mother is an Alpha," the Alpha reminds me, and I can swear that I see him smirking at me in the darkness. As I get closer to the light, he stops, so I step completely into the shelter of the light. My heart is beating erratically with this back-and-forth conversation with this werewolf that knows far too much, when I can't even see his face. I'm dying for him to come forward so I can see who he is, and at the same time, I wish that he would simply get bored of me and leave.

"_Was_ an Alpha," I correct quietly.

I can't take it anymore. My flight reflex takes over and I bolt for the entrance I came in through, listening for the sound of growling or footsteps. I feel like I'm moving through water, my legs not moving fast enough to get me away from the Alpha. My sneakers barely hit the floor outside the gym when I hear him snarl, and like a gunshot firing, everything happens much faster.

The classrooms and the windows fly past me in a blur as I run down the hall with no direction, simply trying to put distance between us. At the last minute I turn a corner, my feet skidding on the laminate so I almost fall down. I regain my footing and run again, a loud noise sounding from behind me as he crashes into a row of lockers. He's close, and I know I can't keep running like this. I reach the end of the hallway and whorl around, lifting my gun and taking a deep breath.

My hands no longer shake as I begin to fire. He's loping towards me, now pure animal and instinct. He runs along the lockers with as much ease as the ground, moving side to side to avoid getting shot. Still, I follow his movements and fire a non-stop stream of bullets, some of them getting purchase in his body. Unfortunately, none of them slow him down, and he continues on undeterred. Why the hell I let sympathy for Scott possess me to leave my wolfsbane bullets behind, I don't know.

And now I'm going to die because of it.

Before I can run again, the gun has been knocked out of my hand. A clawed hand grabs me by my neck and shoves me against the wall of windows, completely blocking the air to my lungs. I hold onto his arm for dear life, twisting and pulling at his hand to get an inch free so that I can breathe again, but it's no use. He roars in my face, spit flying at me and his breath blowing my hair out of my face. I want to speak, to shoot him, to kick and scream and fight-!

Just as the pain erupts in my side and my vision starts to fade, I lift my right hand and shoot the two bullets from my arm gun, my whole world taken over with white light as they explode.

* * *

"So, you're saying Derek Hale tried to kill you guys?" the Sheriff clarified, looking between Scoot and Stiles for an answer. The two boys nodded. "And... the janitor."

"I'm not making this up!" Scott exclaimed defensively. "I swear, if you look in the gym-!"

"We've looked there, Scott," the Sheriff interrupted, a hint of sympathy in his voice. He turned to Stiles. "And you said Conner is supposed to be here?"

"I called her when we first started running from him," Stiles explained. "She's kinda friends with him, and she has a gun, so I hoped-"

"That weapon is supposed to only be used in self-defense, and she was given the permit for it under very special circumstances," the Sheriff reminded him. "If it turns out that she shot somebody here tonight, she could be in serious..." He trailed off suddenly, noticing somebody pass the police line that wasn't on of his deputies. "Hey, you! You're not supposed to be here!"

Scott and Stiles turned around just in time to see the man completely ignore the Sheriff's warning and continue marching alongside the school. He was over six feet tall and looked like a tank with his huge arms and purposeful step. The Sheriff ran after him and motioned for two of his deputies to stop the stranger, but just as they moved forward, the man broke into a run. He was around the corner in a second, incredibly light on his feet for someone so big.

Stiles and Scott exchanged a look before bolting after them.

By the time the two reached the man, the cops had already caught up with them and they were calling the paramedics. The man was kneeling down by the bushes and rolling up the sleeves of his lumberjack as the Sheriff argued with him. Once Stiles and Scott managed to look past the three police officers, they were able to see why.

A girl lay on top of the bushes, her arms covering her head and her knees curled up to her chest. The window two stories above was shattered and glass showered the area all around her, some of the glass actually sticking in to her jacket like a bad special effect. A flash of her red-tinted hair showed the boys that the girl was Conner, and the scent of blood let Scott know she was injured. She seemed to be shaking, but when the man brushed the hair out of her face, her body went rigid and she lifted her head to see who it was.

Her eyes widened and filled with tears as she looked over the man's face. She lifted a hand to touch him, then winced in pain and lowered it again. A large triangle of glass was stuck into her shoulder, and with the ease of someone used to the macabre, the man swiftly pulled it out. She let out a cry of pain then gritted her teeth, squeezing her eyes shut.

"Damn it, Nick!" she hissed once the pain subsided slightly, and glared at the man. "Could you have been less gentle?"

The so-named Nick chuckled and ruffled her hair. "Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?" he asked. She barked a sarcastic laugh.

"Not since she died, dip shit."

Stiles and Scott watched with awe as the paramedics rushed in and the man stood up, towering over everybody present. He looked at Scott and frowned, but didn't say anything and simply stared at him. The Sheriff noticed that the two teenagers were present and ushered them away, warning for them to wait for him by his car. After a couple of useless pleas the boys reluctantly obeyed. Just when they turned the corner, Stiles grabbed Scott's arm, holding him back.

"What?"

"Scott! That's Nick!" Stiles exclaimed, eyes wide as he waved his arms energetically. "Holy crap, that's Nick Daniels!"

"Nick Daniels?" Scott repeated. Stiles groaned and grabbed Scott's shoulders.

"That tank carrying Conner away? That's her older brother, Nick," he said, pointing in the direction they'd just left in. "And, if what Derek said is true, we've got a problem."

"Why?" Scott exclaimed, impatient to know what the importance was. "What did Derek say?"

"You know Conner's family? The one that left a year ago?" Scott nodded, raising his brows expectantly. Stiles let out a heavy breath and scratched the back of his head. "Yeah. Turns out they're all werewolves." He shuddered, remembering the size of the man. "Including... him..."

* * *

Heath can always be counted on to bring flowers when I'm stuck in the hospital.

The smell of the flowers reaches me before I open my eyes to see him walking in through the door. He's wearing the same clothes he's been wearing for two days, his hands are shaking, and his eyes look bloodshot from lack of sleep. His father died today- or yesterday, I honestly don't know what time it is-, so he's allowed to look as much of a wreck as he wants to. He stands in the doorway awkwardly, his head hanging down slightly as he debates something. I may not know how to be so loving anymore, but an unforgotten part of me knows what he needs. I hold up my arms, ignoring the pain, and nod for him to come forward.

In seconds his blond hair completely fills my vision and his arms surround me, holding on for dear life as his body breaks into sobs. I run my hands up and down his back, holding him close and murmuring comforting words, assuring him that I'm here.

"He's gone," he whispers, burying his face into my shoulder. "God Conner, he's really gone!"

I tighten my jaw and close my eyes, trying to keep myself together. His father is dead, and the last thing he did was tell me that he didn't truly love his wife, like he knew that I don't truly love Heath. Scott is so worried that being a werewolf ruined his life, but no... It doesn't take a bite to make somebody a monster.

Some of us just are.

He climbs into bed with me, laying along the side that my arm without the IV is on. His arms are wrapped tightly around my waist, and though it hurts, I can't bring myself to ask him to move. He's speaking quietly in unintelligible murmurs and I nod when it feels appropriate, though I'm not really listening.

I can't.

All I can think of are red eyes, and that helpless feeling right before I fired the "emergency-only weapon" Roy Blackbird gave me. Now the rest of my hand is burned, and I know without the doctor telling me that the scars are going to be grotesque. Then again, it could have been worse: firing the bullets at such close range, and one right after the other, would have blown my hand off if I hadn't flown through the window.

Talk about seeing the positive things in life.

Nurse McCall walks in then, moving quietly when she sees Heath. He's dozed off by now and I know he's going to stay asleep for a good couple of hours, but even so I keep my voice down. "More medication?" I ask in a whisper. She smiles and holds up the fresh IV drip.

"This is going to help make sure you don't get any infections," she explains. Nick follows her into my room, nodding at me in acknowledgment. I smile tiredly at him and motion for him to sit next to my bed, but he shakes his head.

"Miss McCall says visiting hours are almost over," he says, his deep voice filling the room. It's everything to not close my eyes and drift away on the comfort of his voice. "So, if you want me to get you anything from your apartment..."

I think about it for a moment and nod. "Some actual food to hold me off tomorrow would be much obliged," I admit, grinning when Miss McCall rolls her eyes. "Come on, it's glorified cardboard." Once she's done hanging the IV, she ruffles my hair.

"Behave yourself," she orders. She exits the room, leaving me and Nick alone with the sleeping Heath. We look at each other for a moment before I break the silence.

"You've gotten taller, if that's possible," I comment. He snorts and gestures at me.

"Your hair looks worse, if that's possible," he shoots back. I stick my tongue out at him. I used to have my hair so long that it reached past my waist, but I got it cut when I realized how expensive maintaining long hair is. He rolls his eyes at my immaturity, and I take advantage of the moment to ask a burning question. "Are any of the others with you?"

He shakes his head. "It's just me," he says. "I was at an auction in San Francisco when I got your message, so I figured I'd stop by."

I frown at his response. "What message?" I ask. He takes a look at his watch and shakes his head.

"Listen Bird, we'll talk when I get back," he apologizes, using the nickname my brothers gave me. "Try and get some sleep, okay?" If it was Hector, the youngest of my three brothers, he would have given me a kiss on my forehead before leaving. As it is, even if Nick is the one I've always been closest to out of the three, he simply winks before leaving the room, hands stuffed in his pockets. I doubt he has any idea how much the image of him leaving the room affects me, but I swallow the emotion and take a deep breath.

He promised to come back, so he's going to.

The hallway lights are dimmed and the lights in my room are turned off when I finally dare to get up. Heath is still asleep, and out of consideration the nurses have left him with me. I'm pretty sure the late doctor's son can get away with murder now within the walls of this hospital. My feet hit the cold floor and the cool hospital air hits my bare back, but it's the pain running up my spine that makes me stop.

I bite my lip and shut my eyes to keep from crying out, bracing my hands against my knees. Getting pushed out the window by the force of an explosion? Not a good experience. The pain slowly subsides, and taking a shallow, careful breath, I stand up. The world sways for a moment, but I hold onto the bed rail until everything steadies. Once I can open my eyes and not see spinning, I start to walk towards the bathroom. Each step takes more effort than it should, but even so I continue forward, pulling my IV pole with me. As I pass the door I peek to make sure nobody notices me, then walk into the bathroom, closing the door behind me.

The fluorescent light makes my condition look much worse than it really is. There are dark nasty bruises around my neck and small cuts on my face, and that's all that can be seen with the hospital gown on. I know that there's a long line of stitches along my shoulder, as well as more bruises and cuts on my back and hip from falling to the bushes.

But these injuries don't concern me right now. Gingerly I reach behind me with my left, unburned hand, and pull the bottom tie on the gown loose. Biting back the pain, I step onto my tiptoes and drag the gown up, allowing me a clear view of my waist. Even at the strange angle, it's clear that my suspicions have been merited. I release the gown and drop back down, closing my eyes as the reality sets in.

I'm dead.

The ground jerks from underneath my feet and I tumble to the ground, too quickly for my sluggish body to react. My head hits the door with a crack and stars burst into my vision, a seconds-long forewarning of the unconsciousness that's about to take over. Distantly I hear Heath say something from the other side of the door, but the ringing drowns out all other sounds and I feel myself fading fast. I don't even try to stop it.

Hell, why even bother?

I've been bitten.

There isn't much else that can go wrong now.


	7. First Full Moon

So, I suffered a mild concussion from my little fainting spell, but just this morning the doctor informed me that I was free to go home to my messy apartment. And thank God: the hospital is simply depressing.

All the technicalities have been taken care of. Due to my concussion, the Sheriff completely believed me when I told him that I didn't remember whoever threw me out the window. I'd given that statement, because really, I had no idea how to tell the Sheriff that I kinda ended up being blown out the window while fighting off an Alpha. I didn't think that my statement would help support Scott's claim that Derek was responsible. But none of those things matter right now. Tonight's the full moon. Once it's over, I'll find Derek, and we'll figure out what to do next.

Because really. There's no way he's dead.

"Babe, can I spend the night?" Heath whispers in my ear. We're watching a movie, so seeing as I have no couch, naturally we're sitting on my bed. He has his back against the wall and I'm settled between his legs with my back against his chest comfortably. This is our thing, sitting like this to watch bad movies, and after an intense couple of days, I was looking forward to some normal.

Of course, now he has to go and ruin it.

"Heath..." I trail off, not bothering to explain. We've had this discussion many... many times.

"Conner, come on," he urges, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me closer. I push him away in irritation.

"Heath, stop!" I snap, more abruptly than maybe should have. "Can't you take a hint?" Frustration passes through his face.

"Geez Conner, what's your problem?"

Before I can even say anything, the buzzer sounds through the apartment, temporarily interrupting our fight. Giving him an apologetic look, I unwind myself from his arms and get up to answer the door. It's still light outside, so there's a good couple of hours until I have to get to work preparing for the full moon. I pull open the door to see Stiles standing on the welcome mat, a large duffel bag hanging on his shoulder and a distressed look on his face. He lets out a huge breath of relief when he sees me and marches right inside.

"Great, you're home. So, new development: Allison dumped Scott, so Scott is acting like a total douche bag," Stiles starts, throwing his duffel bag on the floor by the kitchen counter. The sound it makes indicates there's a good thirty plus pounds of chains in that bag, not to mention what other kinds of hardware. "I think it might be the full moon, but now that Derek is MIA, we don't have anyone to provide us with wolf-related-"

"Stiles, you remember Heath, right?" I interrupt loudly. He's about to dive headfirst into the dangerous topics of werewolves and our alliance with a wanted fugitive, and seeing as I lead a very dishonest relationship, I can't have Heath knowing about any of it. Hell, as far as Heath knows, I've never even met Derek Hale. Stiles' jaw drops and he turns around, spotting Heath on the bed. Heath has a tight expression on his face and nods shortly at Stiles in acknowledgment. Stiles opens and closes his mouth, but no words come out for several seconds.

"Heath! My man!" he finally manages, waving awkwardly at my clearly annoyed boyfriend. Internally I smack my forehead, but externally I simply smile and close the door. "You guys on a date in, or...?"

"Heath came over to help clean up," I explain unnecessarily, walking into the kitchen. "We were just watching something on Sci-Fi. Want something to drink?"

"There's a six pack in the fridge," Heath calls, getting up from the bed and stretching. "You know, if you're into that sort of thing. Conner goes through them like water." Stiles looks at me questioningly and I shake my had minutely, denying what Heath has said. How can my boyfriend know that I don't actually drink the beer, but just shoot the cans in the forest? I pour Stiles a glass of water and offer some to Heath, but he says no. "I should get going, Jesse wanted to practice this song for a gig this weekend."

_Lie. Jesse's with his fun buddy, and Heath's forgotten he told me there aren't any gigs this weekend._

"Okay honey, have fun!" I say cheerfully. He gives me a peck on the lips before walking out, barely even nodding at Stiles as he passes by him. I don't care that he's lied, I just need him to leave: there's important business going on, apparently. Once the door closes, I drop my head into my hands and laugh. "Stiles, you can't do that!" I exclaim, but can't help laughing as I do so. "Heath or the twins can be here, and none of them know I'm helping you and Scott out!"

"Hey, but aren't your cousins werewolves?" he asks, knowing exactly which twins I'm referring to. They used to go to middle school with Scott and Stiles before moving a couple of towns away. He lifts himself onto the counter and starts to drink the water. "Why don't they join the team?"

"_They _are only fourteen years old," I remind him, "and _Jeremy _will not be joining our dysfunctional team. They don't know anything about what's going on in this town, and it's going to stay that way, especially not now that Derek is missing and a wanted fugitive; he was our strongest asset, and now he's gone."

Stiles scratches the back of his head embarrassedly. "Yeah, about that, Derek isn't exactly what you'd call a _friend. _He actually kinda scares me. And putting the blame on him? That was mostly Scott," he admits. "He kinda thought the Alpha had killed him, so..." I roll my eyes. "And speaking of Scott..."

"How's our residential werewolf handling his second full moon?" I ask, getting straight to business. I'd already assured the two when Derek disappeared that they could come to me for wolf-related advice. It's clear that Scott is the reason he's come here, but why, I'm not too sure. Stiles sighs shortly.

"Not well," he says, his voice heavy with bitterness. Uh-oh. "Allison broke up with him, so he's kinda losing it."

"That's rough." Stiles scoffs and finishes his water. If I hadn't poured him the drink myself, I would swear that he's drowning his feelings in alcohol. But, what feelings? What the hell did Scott do? "Losing it how?"

"Oh, you know. Panic attacks, hurting Danny during lacrosse practice..." He trails off for a moment. "Making out with Lydia..." He mumbles the last part, but I hear the admission loud and clear. That's what's really bothering him: Scott went and kissed the girl that Stiles likes. I run a hand through my hair, not sure what to say to him in comfort. The only female werewolves I know are either full-grown women or pups, so I never had a werewolf competing for the attention of my crushes; only human girls, and most of the time I got bored very early in the game and let them have their guys. And never friends. My friends were mostly guys, and the girls I were close to had different tastes. Now I have Heath, and he's very clear with everyone that we're exclusive.

"You know, the full moon kinda messes with our heads," I point out, lifting myself to sit on the counter next to him. "It's not an excuse, but you can expect plenty of groveling tomorrow."

"Yeah, but until tomorrow, we need to figure out how to keep him from going on a bloodthirsty rampage."

"I already have that covered." I pull my cellphone out of my pocket and dial a number I now know by heart. He answers on the second ring.

"You know, I promised I'd be back tomorrow," Nick says teasingly. I hear the sound of his car engine in the background, and I know he's heading out to the small cottage in the woods he owns. He has a fair amount of control, but has always been the most cautious of my brothers and locks himself in the basement just in case for the full moon.

"Hypothetically speaking, say you have a new beta," I begin, "and said beta just got dumped before his second full moon. What are your recommendations to keep him under control?"

Nick barks a laugh. "Hypothetically? Warn the Alpha that he can't stay in tonight." I try not to roll my eyes; obviously, if there were an Alpha, I wouldn't be calling him right now.

"And if there isn't an Alpha available to keep him under control?" I press. He lets out a low whistle.

"I'm guessing you guys don't have a panic room, either," he says. I don't even bother answering. "Just to be sure, this beta doesn't happen to be you, right?"

"No, it's not me," I assure him. Hey, I'm not lying: Scott's the one losing control so early in the day, not me.

"Is it that brown-haired kid that was at the school?" he asks. "I thought I sensed something." Before I can reply, he stops me. "Actually, it's better you don't say. I'm gonna text you a number for a guy I know, and he'll hook you up with everything you need."

"In time?"

He laughs. "Don't worry, I'll call before you and place the order. Who's picking it up?"

"My friend Stiles," I say. He sighs.

"It _is _the teenager. Great, another teen wolf I'm responsible for," he mutters.

"Hey, don't worry, Scott's my responsibility," I say, feeling the need to defend the idiot teenager.

"And since when did you decide to become Alpha of Beacon Hills?" he asks, and I can clearly picture him raising his brows.

"I'm not an alpha, but I'm responsible ever since Derek Hale decided to go MIA," I snap back. "Without any guidance, these baby betas don't last at all." He laughs, but it's not mockingly this time; it's more affectionate.

"You always were the motherly one in the pack." We say our goodbyes and hang up.

"Alright, good news, my brother has a contact," I conclude, jumping down from the counter. "You just have to go pick it up at the auto shop in town. Think you can do that?"

Stiles nods. "So, your brother..." he starts, raising his brows expectantly. I wave a hand.

"Yeah yeah, he's a full-grown werewolf and is kinda an expert when it comes to baby betas," I say quickly. The sun's setting outside, and though there's plenty of time until the moon rises, I need to get a couple of things of my own. "But don't worry, he's only in town until tomorrow. Then he'll go rejoin the rest of the pack."

"And why aren't they here fighting the Alpha?" he presses, jumping down from the counter. "I mean, if Nick could come, why can't the rest of them? I don't remember much, but I know your brothers are all pretty tough guys." Apparently, my family is a topic he's very interested in talking about. I, on the other hand, am not.

"Nick came here because he apparently received a text message from me insisting it was a matter of life or death that he come to Beacon Hills," I answer boredly, making it clear I don't want to answer any more questions. "Seeing as I didn't have his phone number until this morning, I couldn't have sent him the text message."

"And you don't have any idea-?"

"Stiles, rampant werewolf, full moon!" I remind him, jerking my head in the direction of the door. "You need to get going!"

"Oh, right!" He grabs his duffel bag off the ground, heaving it over his shoulder. "Thanks Conner."

"Don't mention it. Just call me if Scott gets out, okay?" I say, following him to the front door.

"What are you gonna do, run him over with your car?" he asks jokingly. "I mean, I almost hit Derek with my Jeep the other day. Maybe it would work with Scott." I laugh.

"Of course not, dummy. I'm gonna shoot him and then chain his ass in the basement until he learns his lesson," I correct with a smile. He doesn't look very reassured as I close and lock the door behind him.

* * *

Kate and Chris wanted to go Alpha and Beta hunting. It didn't seem to matter which werewolf they caught, just so long as they caught one. Roy Blackbird, on the other hand, had a much more specific target to hunt.

He was driving the black van today, and was parked in the far end of the parking lot with a pair of binoculars. The windows were heavily tinted enough that passerby wouldn't see him, especially now that the sun had gone down. The apartment complex seemed very quaint and had an overall quiet feel to it, which truly led him to wonder what the girl had planned. Surely the neighbors would notice if she suddenly started howling at the moon?

As if on cue, her apartment door opened and she stepped out. Her hair was pulled into a ponytail and her bangs hung messily over her eyes, eyes that were scanning the area suspiciously. She didn't see him parked at a safe distance, and started down the hall to the staircase. She was scantily dressed in only a sports bra and a pair of shorts, and Roy couldn't help wondering who she got her sense of fashion from. Her mother, Leni, had always managed to floor him without showing too much skin, and as far as he knew, the girl's stepmother was a decent lady as well.

Then again, the girl clearly took after him. It was surreal how much they looked alike. Not only her eyes and hair color, but the way she looked when she was searching the area to make sure it was safe; and then the other day, when she fired the arm gun like a pro on her first try. He couldn't help feeling a little proud that she was a sharpshooter like her father. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and he felt a strange swell in his chest to see that she was wearing the arm gun he'd given her.

It was too bad that he was going to have to kill her.

See, he wasn't too sure he bought into the idea of waiting for a werewolf to kill somebody before hunting them down. He'd snuck into her hospital room when she'd been knocked out on painkillers, and had clearly seen the bite from the Alpha. She was a part of the Alpha's pack now, and therefore would be ordered to kill. It was pretty much set in stone that she would become a killer, so why wait? If it was any other beta, he'd take them in and torture them to find out about the Alpha, and _then _kill them. But see, Conner wasn't just his daughter, she was Leni's daughter, and out of respect for her, he wouldn't do that. He'd just put a bullet in her head once she transformed and wasn't completely aware of what was happening, and then be done with it.

It was the humane thing to do, after all.

* * *

My panic room is nowhere near as elaborate as Nick's. My brother's panic room is fully equipped with a treadmill, sound system, weights bench and a cot. It's built into the cottage's basement with several inches of concrete in every direction, and a metal door that's easily a foot thick and is programmed to unlock only when the danger hours of the full moon are over. So, basically, if my brother wanted to, he could completely lose control, and not have to worry about ever getting out, or even getting bored.

For now, I'm using my apartment building's old boiler room. New electric heaters were installed several years ago, so this room is basically used for storage, and nobody ever comes down here. There are small windows along the top of one wall, but otherwise, the only source of light comes from an old light bulb hanging from the ceiling and my laptop, opened several feet away to show me the moon's progress.

Not that it matters much. Even as I fasten the chains around my ankles and shackle my wrists, I find that I feel perfectly calm. I've looped the chains several times through the boilers, making the room look like a spider web of chains with me in the center. It's difficult to work the chains with my right hand still very much injured from the incident the other night, but I manage. A last shackle goes around my neck, and just as I'm about to toss the keys out of my reach, my phone rings.

And the ringtone is "Wild Ones." Stiles must have thought he was fucking hilarious.

"Seriously, Stiles?" I exclaim, answering the call. "You hacked my phone?"

"We can discuss violations of privacy later. Right now, we have a problem."

I look at my laptop. The full moon is very much on the verge of rising, and I can't risk being caught anything less than completely chained up when the transformation takes place. "What's going on?" I ask, worried about what he's going to tell me. If he says that Scott has gotten out, then we're really, really in trouble. "Did Scott-?"

"He hasn't gotten out yet," Stiles says quickly. "But I think I'm gonna need that tranquilizer you were talking about."

I didn't think that there was a worse situation than Scott getting out.

Turns out there is.

"You didn't pick up the package?" I ask, my eyes glued to the laptop. The full moon is going to rise any minute!

"He didn't let me lock him up. You should have seen him Conner, I was only able to get a handcuff on him-"

_"STILES!"_

Scott's yell from the background drowns out everything else that Stiles says. I feel my stomach drop as Scott's growls and screams blast out of the small cell phone speaker, and suddenly silence. I curse and scramble to unlock the chains from around me, my hands shaking with the urgency of the situation. Forget me, Scott's already lost control. Once I've unlocked the chains, I stop for a moment and take a deep breath.

Perfectly controlled heart rate.

I don't question the delay in my first transformation and simply grab my gun off the floor next to me. I'd kept it there just in case I felt I was going to lose complete control and needed to put myself down for a couple of hours, but as it turns out, I'm not the werewolf to worry about. I pull on my jean jacket and bolt for the door, unlocking it in a flash and slamming it shut behind me. Luckily my car keys are in my jacket pocket and I have extra clips of wolfsbane bullets in the glove compartment, so I just run for my truck without going to my apartment first. Within seconds I'm pelting down the main road, windows rolled down and eyes peeled for any sign of the baby beta.

Unknowingly, my brothers have taught me to trust in the instinct they're naturally born with as wolves. Especially Nick. He's always said that I'm more connected to the Instinct than any of them, so I call onto his confidence in me and go with my gut feeling. I head into town, pulling over every couple of minutes to search for any sign that he's passed through. Even if I see none I continue driving on. I don't know why, but it feels like I'm trying following a route that's been described to me, even if I've never been there in person, and don't exactly know where I'm going. That's a part of trusting your senses: sometimes trusting in feelings that can't be explained. It isn't until twenty minutes later that I feel the trail end, and don't know where to go next. I park in front of a sporting goods store and pull out my cellphone, calling Stiles.

"Please tell me you've found him."

"Do you have Allison's number?" I ask, ignoring the question.

"Yeah, sure. Why-?"

"Call her and ask her where she is," I order abruptly, not caring much at this point if I sound rude. "I think I'm close, but I've lost the trail. He has to be looking for her, so if I can find her-"

"You'll find Scott. Okay, I'll text you."

I hang up and turn off the truck. I look around, searching for a clue, but all I see are cars and the woods behind the parking lot. The place seems pretty quiet right now, and there aren't any signs of baby betas around. I feel the anxiety start to kick in, so I take a deep breath to calm myself. It's going to be fine. I'm going to find Scott, Stiles is gonna help me calm him down, and everyone is going to be alright.

I lean forward and look up at the sky. The full moon stares down at me, huge and imposing. My bite has already faded away, but I feel the place where I was bitten tingle, almost as if the tissue recognizes that something should be happening. My heart sinks, and I look at the time. Ten thirty. I should have shifted already. With a feeling of dread, I carefully peel the bandage off of my hand. Even in the moonlight, I can see how grotesque my hand looks. It looks like the skin has been melted, and the roaring red color makes me wince. Hell, the pain makes me wince; the skin has all been completely burned off, leaving my muscle tissues exposed. It doesn't even look like it belongs as a part of my body, and constantly throbs as if it doesn't want to be a part of it. The burn should have healed as well, but it's taking its sweet time, too.

The hair on the back of my neck stands up, and I look away from the injury to scan the parking lot again. This time, I see him: Scott is crouching on top of a car, completely wolfed-out and out in the open. Cursing under my breath, I grab a clip from the glove compartment and take the safety off of my pistol before jumping out of my truck. I'm just going to have to shoot left-handed for now.

If he wasn't obviously out of control, I would normally yell for his attention. Unfortunately, Scott's completely lost it. He runs across the car roofs before finally landing on an expensive-looking SUV, rage pouring out of his pores with every movement. I bolt after him, hardly even paying attention to my surroundings as I catch up to the damn beta. He looks up when he sees me approaching and roars, telling me to leave him alone. I stop a couple of yards away. Maybe if I try to calm him down...

That idea is discarded the moment I see the inhabitants of the car. Allison and some teenager. A _male_, good-looking teenager. Recipe for disaster. Giving Scott an apologetic look, I raise my gun, point it at him, and fire three times. Because I'm aiming with my left hand, two of the bullets miss, but the third shot gets his shoulder. It's only a standard bullet, but the force of it knocks him off the SUV. Allison screams and the guy with her freaks out, honking his horn when he sees I'm holding a gun.

"It's a mountain lion!" I yell over the horn blasting. He stops honking, and I wave frantically. "Get the hell out of here!"

Allison objects, but the guy doesn't waste a second before starting the car and pelting out of there. And good thing, too: Scott's rolled down to the bottom of the ridge behind the parking lot, but he's getting to his feet, and he looks _pissed_. I walk to the edge of the parking lot and aim, ready just in case the pain doesn't bring him back to reality and he needs another bullet. I already know he'll heal quickly; hell, he'll hardly even remember how it felt to get shot afterwards. And good thing, too, because he's advancing forward now, claws drawn as if he wants to kill me.

I don't even get the chance to shoot before two things happen at once.

First, I hear another werewolf roar at Scott. Then, someone grabs me by the back of my jacket and pulls me back, tossing me to the ground. I roll over and then aim at the person who grabbed me, ready to fight whoever it is.

I didn't expect the person to be Roy Blackbird.

Silence follows, broken only by a whispered curse before he turns to me. He holds out a hand to lift me up, and I cautiously accept. "The betas ran off," he says, clearly disappointed by the fact. "Dammit, and there were two of them! How did you find them?"

"Who the hell are you?" I demand, stepping back. My every Instinct is warning me to get away; he doesn't mean me harm, but there's a shotgun in his hand, and I'd bet my last dollar that it's loaded with wolfsbane bullets. Not to mention it's a full moon, and there's a chance that, at any moment, I'm going to lose control. Roy smirks and unloads the shotgun in a sign of good faith, handing me he bullets. Surely enough, they're loaded with wolfsbane.

"I'm an arms dealer for hunters, but I'm also a part-time hunter myself," he explains. "The Argents asked for some help patrolling, so I decided to help out. Now, are you going to explain how you found that beta?"

I shrug. "Just dumb luck, I guess," I mutter. I'm still shaken that we're even having this conversation, and I don't know how I'm supposed to react, or what I'm supposed to say. I didn't prepare for this scenario; hell, I'd pretty much forgotten there even were hunters in town! Roy laughs.

"I doubt it's dumb luck," he informs me, raising a brow. "Come on. Just say it. It was instinct." The moment he says the word _instinct_, I feel my body tense up, ready to run. "... A hunter's instinct."

"What?" I can't keep the disbelief out of my voice, nor can he stop himself from laughing at the look on my face.

"Conner, come on, it's obvious," he reasons, gesturing at me with one hand. "You were attacked by a werewolf, thrown out of a second floor window, and survived. You were bitten by an alpha, and yet you haven't turned on the full moon. On top of the fact that you're immune, you were able to track down not one, but two betas while running injured. If you're not a recipe for a first-class hunter, I don't know who is."

At this point I'm definitely backing away and keeping my hand firmly set on my gun. This man knows way too much, and I need to put distance between us before Scott, Derek or even my cousins are put in danger. "I don't know what you're talking about," I state. "The Alpha didn't bite me, and he didn't push me out the window. I got blasted out of the window thanks to this." I hold up my right arm with the arm gun. "It got me away just in time."

"You're lying," he says calmly. I roll my eyes.

"Yeah, because now you're psychic, too," I spit sarcastically at him. "Just leave me the hell alone." He doesn't stop me as I walk away, but I feel his honey-colored eyes glued to me as I hurry to my truck.

* * *

After a phone call from Stiles assuring me that Scott made it home and healed from the bullet wound, I drive to my apartment, ready to just turn in for the night. It's already almost midnight, and though I've taken all of my pain medication, my body is worn out from the abuse I've given it today. I limp up the stairs to my door and unlock it left-handedly, then push it open with my shoulder.

The lights are all off, just as I left it, but I hear the window blowing in through the window even before I turn on the light. I lock the door behind me and carefully make my way inside, unfastening my gun holster from around my waist and dropping it on the counter. My skin is pale and my hands are shaking, subtle signs that my body has had enough.

"Stiles told me you were trying to stop Scott." I'm too tired to even scream at the unexpected voice. Derek's sitting on my bed, this time fully clothed, albeit covered in dust. Distantly I make the connection that he's the beta that attacked Scott, and sigh with relief. I was worried that there was yet another werewolf to worry about. "For a moment there, I thought you were trying to kill him."

I shake my head, slowly pulling off my jacket. Everything hurts. "They were standard bullets, he would have survived," I explain. "I just needed to neutralize him. Unlike some people, I don't have supernatural strength-" I wince as my sleeve brushes over my burned hand. "- or supernatural healing abilities. I'm no help if he kills me." I pause, remembering something. "You're running from the police. Do you want to stay here?"

"Here?" he repeats, as if it's the dumbest idea ever.

"Yes, here," I shoot back defensively. "According to Scott's statement, you're the one who pushed me out the window. I doubt the police would suspect I'd be hiding your fugitive ass."

He doesn't say anything, jaw tight as he looks away. I'm pretty sure he'd like anything more than to not have to ask for help, so I don't make him. "There's a cot in the closet," I say, pointing in the right direction as I walk around the counter to the kitchen. It's already time for my nightly dose of pills. As he sets up the cot, I pull a white paper bag filled with orange pill bottles out of the spices cabinet, and grab a clear pill bottle from the drawer. Checking each label in turn, I start to take out what I need to drink now before bed, placing them all carefully on the counter. By the time I'm done, I have six pills laid out in front of me. I pour a large glass of water and take a deep breath, preparing myself. I hate pills.

One antibiotic. One vitamin C. One pain killer. One iron pill. One calcium pill. One sleeping pill. All huge and uncoated.

He stops his work and looks at me as I start to down the medication. Once I finish swallowing the last pill, I look at him, and his face says it all. Smiling sadly, I shake my head to confirm his suspicion.

"I'm not one of you."

He doesn't respond, and simply goes back to making his bed. Taking a look at my watch, I finish my water and walk to the bathroom. Not saying a word, I lock myself inside, and sit down on the edge of the bathtub.

I'm not a werewolf.

Why? I was bitten, I know I was, and the bite healed! I should be one of them! I should be feeling perfectly healthy, stronger, faster, and not need all of this stupid medication to recover from a stupid fall and burn! As a human, I should be relieved. I can continue to live as I always have, not having to worry about chaining myself up once a month to keep myself from killing people.

But as a girl raised by wolves, I know that the bite is a gift. And to be denied it, by no reason other than perhaps immunity? That possibly has to be the single most shameful thing that can happen to a girl like me, other than perhaps being an omega.

* * *

"She's perfect." Kate looked up at him with a raised brow, urging Roy to elaborate. He was laying on his motel bed, hands folded behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling, a stupid smile on his face. "My God Kate, you should have seen her. She shot that beta left-handed and kept moving forward, ready to attack it more. She was knocked out of a second-floor window the other day, and she just put all that to the side to take it down! The girl's a natural."

"She must take after her father," Kate mused, pulling on her jeans. "Allison's raw talent, too." Their clothes were all scattered across the floor, but Roy hadn't bothered to get dressed nor cover himself up. He'd never been embarrassed about nudity, much less where she was concerned. "What were you doing tailing her, anyway? You told me you were going beta-hunting."

"I was," he confirmed, shrugging. "I thought Derek might go check on her in case she turned."

"Did she?"

He shook his head. "I already told you Kate," he reminded her. "She wasn't bitten. I made sure. She threw herself out the window to avoid that."

Kate let out a low whistle. "Would rather die than be turned into an animal." She pulled her shirt over her head and grinned. "I like her."

"Yeah..." He trailed off, pulling one of his hands in front of his face. A silver band was wrapped around his ring finger, and for a moment he seemed to drift away from reality, entranced by the ring. "... I think I like her, too."

* * *

**Next Chapter:**

**Alpha business, Peter business, and family business... We're catching up to season 2, and I'm really excited to write more :) I know this was a little bit of a filler chapter, but I really wanted to show some interaction with Stiles, and some of Roy's POV. The next one is going to be a real doozy :D So please, review, and I will get it out ASAP!**

**Also, PS, what was up with last night's episode? I enjoyed it, but... Nothing earth-shattering really actually happened until the last 2 minutes. And even that was a given...**

**Anyways, please review, guys :)!**


	8. A Sense of Kinship

**Author's Note:**

**Okay guys, here's a nice, long, important chapter! For those of you who wanted more Derek, there's more of him in this chapter, and I hope you enjoy :) Thanks so much to everyone who's reviewed and subscribed, it really means a lot to me!**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

Get out of work.

Haul ass to get to Derek.

Simple plan, right?

Not really. My shift is supposed to have ended already, but my boss just _loves _tormenting me and has kept me working a half hour longer than she's supposed to. Heath and Jesse are playing the normal acoustic covers to keep up a relaxing atmosphere, but right now, when I need to get out of here, the music is irritating. Scott and Stiles are driving Derek's car around town to distract the hunters who are looking for him while he tracks down the Alpha.

And me? I'm serving coffee.

"Look, Sue, I have to go!" I insist for the seven hundredth time, imploring the woman to understand. "Any other night I would gladly work overtime, but tonight I can't!"

"Fine! Go home!" the woman exclaims, waving a hand. "Don't burden me with your personal problems!"

"Thank you so much!" I gush, pulling my apron off of my head and hurrying into the locker room. I grab my purse from my locker and my change of clothes, getting undressed right there in the locker room. It's not like anybody is going to walk in here. I pull on my black jeans and tank top, stuff my black waist apron inside my locker, and then run. I pull open the locker room door, and Heath is standing there, blocking the way.

Apparently they're taking their five minute break.

"Hey babe, I'm really sorry, but I have to go," I rush apologetically, trying to step around him. He doesn't budge.

"I have something to say," he starts, and internally I groan. Doesn't anybody _understand_?

"Can you call me later on and tell me?" I plead, squeezing his hand. "I have someplace to be, and-"

"I slept with Linda."

That makes me stop. I let go of his hand and take a step back, processing. "You screwed Linda? As in, we're-just-friends Linda?" I clarify. He has deep shadows under his bloodshot eyes and he looks spent. The smell of alcohol hangs over him like an aura, the only consolation he's had since his father's passing. He nods miserably. I frown, a strange emotion overwhelming me as I realize what he's just told me. Not saying another word, I move to go past him again, and he blocks my way, again.

"We need to talk about-"

"Talk about what?" I calmly demand. "How many times and in how many positions? Get out of my way."

"Please, Conner, just listen-!"

I grab his shirtfront and turn him to the side, giving me enough room to move past him. He runs after me, but I'm faster on my way out of the cafe, not stopping to say goodbye to anybody as I march out onto the parking lot. My truck is in view, so I hurry to the driver's seat and pull open the door. As I'm climbing in, Heath rushes forward and grabs my hand.

"Conner, talk to me!" he exclaims. I jerk my hand away.

"Alright, fine," I answer, slamming the door shut. "We're over."

I waste no time in starting the car and screeching out of the parking lot, heading onto the main road. I call Stiles, who answers on the first ring. "Holy crap Conner, we're in a car chase!" he yells into the phone. I hold the phone an inch away from my ear.

"Where's Derek?" I demand.

"Out by the ironworks!"

"Got it!"

I hang up and drive full-speed in that direction. Luckily, the cafe isn't too far from the ironworks. The dark, looming buildings and equipment comes into view, and to my dismay, the whole scene is alight with red and blue lights. Perfect, just perfect: the police are here. I drive around the buildings, eyes peeled for any sign of the beta in question before I pull over in the shadow of an abandoned building. Strapping on my arm gun and pulling on a black hoodie, I jump out of my truck and start to run.

I run along the outskirts of the factory, listening for any police activity and avoiding it. Derek isn't going to let himself get caught by the police, it's the hunters that are going to be a problem. At the sound of gunshots, I pick up speed until I reach a storage area outside. White light explodes from a blinding flare, and when the light dies down I see Derek cornered against a forklift, blinking wildly as if he can't see. I look up in the direction the flare had to have come from, and see Chris Argent. Not wasting a second, I aim my arm gun in his direction and fire.

It's the same kind of projectile I used against the Alpha that burned my whole hand, but because it explodes a good distance away, my burn is completely unharmed. The bullet explodes close to Chris in blue light, catching the hunter completely by surprise and giving me the opening I need. I run forward and grab Derek by the sleeve, dragging him into the shadows. We break into a run, the sound of Chris shouting orders and police sirens spurring us on. We reach my pickup truck, and at the sound of a car approaching, we leap into the trunk and duck below the canopy.

As hoped, the SUV whizzes past, as do the police cruisers. Cops continue to run past with their dogs, but nobody stops for too long. I stare up at the black leather that covers my trunk, suddenly very grateful I invested in it. Derek is breathing heavily right next to me, the sound of his pants the only indication that I'm not alone. I can't see more than an inch in front of me, nor do I attempt to see farther. Any movement of the truck, and we might attract attention.

Thank God my truck looks like too much of a piece of shit to attract any attention.

It feels like forever passes before the sound of the police fades away. "Do you think they're gone?" I ask quietly.

"Well, if they're not, they'll definitely hear you if you start talking," he hisses pointedly. I'm about to object when footsteps pass by the truck, slow and deliberate. He firmly squeezes my arm, ordering me to stay quiet. I obey and bite my bottom lip, bracing myself to be exposed as an accomplice to a wanted fugitive. The sound of a chuckle comes from outside, and then, as calmly as they'd arrived, the footsteps depart.

It isn't until a full two minutes of silence later that I dare speak. "Who the hell was that?" I ask in a terrified whisper. Derek takes several seconds to respond, and when he does, I can almost see the tight set of his jaw.

"The hunter you ran into the night of the full moon," he answers. My stomach drops in response. Roy Blackbird. Damned hunter and his meddling in my life. "Friend of yours?"

"Not at all," I mutter angrily. I listen for any other sounds of human life, and when I hear none, I kick open the trunk door. "Let's go."

He follows me out of the trunk and we climb into the front seats. I start the car and drive back onto the main road, going in the opposite direction of the police cruisers. Needless to say, we're taking the long way home today. I turn on my favorite radio station and roll down the windows, letting in the night breeze; the combination always does wonders when I'm in a bad mood. The 80's soul song ends, and the radio broadcaster's deep voice fills the truck.

_To all you brokenhearted lovers out there, remember that life isn't over until you're dead, and everyone deserves a second chance. My man Heath has called asking his girl for a second chance, and wants her to listen to this song._

I scramble to turn off the radio or change the station, but not before the first few verses of "Can't Make You Love Me" by Elliot Yamin play over the speakers.

_Yes I cheated_

_I admit it.._

_I made choices that i never thought about..._

It isn't until Derek reaches over and punches the radio that the music stops. "Thanks," I mumble, turning to look out the windshield. My cheeks must be burning at this point. Just like that, the reality of my love life that even I haven't accepted yet has been bared to Derek. Out of the corner of my eye, I see he has a strange expression on his face.

"Linda?" he asks.

"That wasn't my boyfriend," I snap before I can stop myself. "Just a coincidence." His tone didn't carry the tone of "I told you so," and I know he doesn't believe my lie, but I don't want to talk about Heath. "What do we have so far?" I ask, referring to the Alpha stake out. He's following his sister's footsteps before leading up to her death, and I'm really hoping that the overwhelming number of cops cars at the iron works was an indication that he's found a clue. He sighs.

"Nothing, except that Adrian Harris is definitely the one my sister went to talk to," he says, clearly frustrated.

"Do we have anything else?" I press. I can tell he's keeping something hidden, and I won't have it. "Derek, full disclosure, or I am done."

"Fine!" He hand me a folded sheet of paper with a drawing on it. "This is the only other clue." The symbol looks familiar, but I can't place it and hand it back to Derek.

"Send a picture of it to Scott. It's better if the four of us are all searching for it."

Reluctantly he takes my phone and does as I suggested. Not even a minute later it starts ringing, and I take the phone back, putting it on speaker phone. "I've got Derek, and you're on speaker."

"So, turns out the symbol is Allison's necklace," Stiles says awkwardly. I laugh, unable to stop myself. "Yeah, that's what I said."

"Seriously? That sucks!" I exclaim.

"Can't you just get it from her," Derek says. I laugh again.

"Not that easy, she dumped him," I inform him. Derek groans and I take the phone off speaker phone. "Tell Scott to steal it."

"I'm not stealing Allison's necklace!" Scott exclaims. I roll my eyes.

"Fine. I'll steal it," I say simply.

"You're not going to steal Allison's necklace!" Scott yells. I wince, pulling the phone away.

"Jesus, you've got some lungs on you," I comment. "Fine. You handle it, and meanwhile, I'll hide Derek from the state police."

"Tell Scott thanks for that," Derek mutters.

"And Derek says thanks for making him the most wanted fugitive since that serial killer in '08," I add. "Stiles, you still coming over tomorrow?"

"You bet!" he says excitedly.

"Good. Come over hungry." And with that, I hang up.

"'Come over hungry'?" Derek repeats. I nod.

"I'm cooking. The boys have a lacrosse match and need to keep up their strength," I say simply. At his raised brow, I groan. "Don't give me that look!"

"You sound like a mother of a three-year-old," he informs me. I hold up a hand.

"I will not hear your judgment," I state. "I'm just trying to help create a warm, loving pack that cannot be made with growling and threats."

He raises both brows this time. "You think you know how to lead a pack better than I do," he clarifies. I nod. "And this is coming from your many years of experience as a werewolf, of course."

"Hey, I'm just saying that sometimes, boys respond better to a woman's wiles than threats of doom and gloom."

"You don't have womanly wiles," he states. I gape at him.

"Excuse me?"

Apparently he didn't expect me to ask him to elaborate. Even so, he doesn't back down from the challenge and looks straight at me as he answers. "You're going to use your womanly wiles of being a teenager that walks around with a gun and some sort of arm weapon and drives a pickup truck to create a pack."

"You jerk!" I exclaim. "I don't know what you're into, but just because I'm not some werewolf beta with long, flowing hair that mates under the full moon doesn't mean I don't have womanly wiles!"

He shrugs. "You're not my type," he says calmly. I scoff.

"You have no taste," I shoot back. He scoffs, too.

"And you do?" he says doubtfully. "Should we bring up Mr. Wants a Second Chance?"

"Let's just stop this conversation now," I say loudly, turning on the radio. For all of his strength and the similar backgrounds we share, there are times I just can't stand his stupid werewolf self. And his comments sting a little more than they should. But I'm not telling him that. Ever.

* * *

"Twenty-seven," I whisper to myself as the phone starts vibrating again. It's four o'clock in the morning, my burn is hurting from betting scraped while rescuing Derek, and I can't fall asleep. Sure, I dozed off for an hour or two after we got to the apartment and ate, but then Heath started calling, and I woke up to put my phone on vibrate. Of course, all of his text messages woke me up, and I realized I'd forgotten to take my sleeping pills. Two o'clock in the morning is too late to take the pills and actually expect to wake up before noon, so I simply folded my hands behind my head and started counting sheep. After a while, I started to count the number of times he called. Now I hear phone call number twenty-eight come in, and I sigh. This is ridiculous.

What am I supposed to do? I care about him, but in all honesty... Him cheating doesn't hurt as much as it should. I should feel betrayed, brokenhearted, dirty, and angry, but really... I don't. Hell, I think that I maybe would have done the same thing had I been in his shoes. I know I'm unavailable emotionally to him, and I make it a point to not have sex with him, so what else can I expect the guy to do?

Especially when I wasn't even able to save his father...

When phone call number thirty comes in, I hear Derek shift in his bed. His cot lies perpendicular to mine, the only way we were able to set up the cot without having it parallel to mine. Normally when the twins stay over, we simply put the two cots and my bed together and form one big bed for the three of us to sleep in. Obviously, doing that wouldn't be appropriate with Derek, especially after his stupid comments in the car.

What the hell does he mean, I'm not his type? Well, he's not my type, either! I prefer for my guys to have more of a sense of humor, and much less angst. And to not be running from the cops. Lying low is an art my family instilled from day one, and though I don't necessarily succeed (running around with a gun isn't exactly the best way to avoid public attention), I've always kept a spotless police record. No perfect body makes up for those flaws.

Take that, Derek Hale.

At phone call thirty-three, Derek loses it. Before I even have time to react, he jumps out of his bed and pulls the sheets off of my bed. I gasp angrily and am about to object when he reaches over me and grabs my cell phone. In the blink of an eye, he presses the green button and holds the phone out to me.

"Talk to him so he can let me sleep," he growls. Heath is talking over the speaker, but I'm speechless, gaping at Derek as he shakes the phone, insisting that I answer. Mutely I take the phone and hold it to my ear.

"Heath?"

"Conner, did I wake you up?" Heath asks worriedly. I run a hand over my face and close my eyes. No, I just happened to be awake and notice specifically your thirty-third call.

"It's fine," I answer tiredly, waving a hand as if he can see me. "What is it?"

To my horror, Derek sits down at the foot of my bed and watches. "I just... needed to apologize," Heath says, his voice thick with tears. I narrow my eyes at Derek and jerk my head towards his bed, gesturing for him to get off of my bed. He raises his brows, making it clear that he isn't going to listen to me. "What happened with Linda, it was a mistake-"

"It's fine," I say quickly, motioning more insistently for Derek to get away. Derek pretends he doesn't notice how much I want him away.

"W-what?" Heath stammers. "What do you mean?"

Realizing what I said, I slap my forehead and try again. "I mean, it's not fine, but- Look, can we talk another time?" I ask, hoping he'll say yes.

"Babe, we need to talk now. I owe you an explanation."

I kick at Derek, and he slaps my foot away. Sick of it, I get up from my bed, and he stands up with me. "What the hell?" I mouth at him.

"Get rid of him!" Derek hisses. "He's a distraction!"

"Conner, is... Is there someone with you?" Heath asks. I try to move past Derek, but he blocks me, apparently believing that the pressure will make me hang up faster. I push him in the chest and he grabs my wrist, holding me in place.

"Get... rid... of him," he repeats.

"I hear him, Conner. What the hell's going on?" Heath demands. Between Derek acting like an overpowering alpha and Heath's demanding that we talk, my patience snaps.

"I can be with whoever I want," I state firmly, directing the statement to both Derek and Heath. I look down, and take a deep breath. "And I don't want to be with you. End of discussion." I hang up the phone and hold it in the air, turning back to Derek. "Satisfied?" I challenge. He releases my wrist to take the phone and toss it across the apartment.

"Now I am."

Needless to say, I take as kindly to that as I would somebody keying my truck. "What the hell is your problem?" I yell, shoving him back. "I already hung up, you didn't have to go and break my phone!"

"You need to get your head on straight already!" he yells back, not intimidated by my outburst. "We are a necklace away from catching the Alpha, and you're too busy dealing with boy problems to focus!"

"Yeah, because I was just crying my eyes out when I saved your ass from the Argents tonight, right?" I snap. "Contrary to whatever you may believe, I'm perfectly capable of balancing werewolf business and dealing with Heath."

"Are you? Really?" he challenges. I step up to him, getting on my toes so our faces are only inches apart.

"Really."

Of course, this is the moment I choose to notice the fact that only a hairs breadth separates our bodies, and while I'm wearing pajama pants and a sports bra, he's only wearing a pair of jeans. I immediately step back, needing to put some distance between us. He does the same, surprisingly, and we both glare at each other.

Damn him for being the single most attractive, as well as aggravating man I have ever met. He walks past me and lays down, silently ending the argument. I, on the other hand, am too wired up now to go to sleep. Grabbing my hoodie off the coat rack, I pull it on, careful to make sure the sleeve doesn't touch my burn, and slip on my sneakers.

"Where are you going?" Derek asks.

"For a run," I answer shortly.

"At this time?"

I pull open the front door forcefully. My heart leaps in my throat when I see somebody standing in the doorway, but just barely manage to bite back a scream when I see who it is. "God damn it, Nick!" I hiss, clutching my chest as I heave a breath. "Are you trying to kill me?"

He chuckles halfheartedly and scratches the back of his head. "Yeah, no, I just came by to... you know..." He trails off, and my stomach sinks when I realize what he's here for. He's going to say goodbye. I lean back to make sure Derek isn't visible, then turn back to Nick. Never one for eloquent speeches, he holds out a plastic bag, shaking it so that I'll take it. When I open it, the first thing that hits me is the smell, and then I see the contents: several children's drawings, a floppy dog plush toy and an authentic Swiss Army knife. With shaking hands, I pull the plush out and hold it up to my face, burying my nose in its fur.

It still smells like the oldest of my two younger sisters, Samantha. An image invades my memory of the girls jumping on my bed in the mornings, begging me to convince their mother to let them go to school without combing their hair. Tears fill my eyes, but I blink them away and take a deep breath, dropping the plush toy back into the bag. "The girls send you letters in the mail," he explains, gesturing at the drawings. "Hector won the knife betting on the Heats. And Samantha wanted you to have the dog."

"They don't know?" I ask, the question coming out in a whisper. He shakes his head.

"They think you're studying abroad," he explains. "It was Susan's idea. Then the girls started looking up tickets to go visit you in Europe, so she said you went to Australia, and that the tickets are too expensive." He shrugs weakly. "Hector and Vincent have pretty much figured it out, but everyone else keeps up the act for the girls' sake." He hesitates, then takes a step back. "We all miss you, though."

"Why?" The word has haunted my sleeping and waking hours for all of a year, and that single word makes him freeze. "Why?" I repeat. He runs a hand through his hair and looks away.

"Don't," he warns. "Bird, you really don't want to know."

"But I already know," I insist. "I'm not Dad's kid, so I'm not related to any of you. But is it really so horrible? The girls are adopted, so-"

"Conner, hasn't your real father explained it all to you?" he interrupts. I shake my head slowly, and he curses. "That's it. I can't do this. I'm not supposed to—"

"Nick! We're not related, but I'm still your sister!" I plead, grabbing his hand. "Tell me! Who is he, that you all would just leave-?"

"Conner, Father wanted to _kill _you!" he exclaims, throwing his hands in the air. "Susan was the one that suggested emancipating you and disappearing, but it was a tough argument, especially when your father-"

"Who the hell is my father?" I demand.

"He's a hunter!" he yells. "Leni went and cheated on our father with a hunter, and then that hunter went and killed her when he found out what she was! The hunter tracked us down, so Father left you behind so he wouldn't kill the pack. We all though the would have taken you in by now, because all he wanted was you, but apparently he's not only a sick son of a bitch, he's a negligent father, too." I blink, shocked as if he's slapped me in the face. It can't be possible, my mom died in a car accident, she wasn't killed by a hunter... But Nick's eyes are bright with emotion, and I know that for whatever faults he may have, Nick wouldn't lie about something like this.

He isn't lying about this.

I'm speechless, my ears ringing loudly as I begin to register what he's told me. My father isn't some deadbeat high school sweetheart of my mother's, he's a hunter, and he knows about my pack. I wasn't abandoned only because I'm a bastard child, I was abandoned because I'm a bastard child that brought danger to the pack. I could have maybe talked my pack into taking me back if I'd been able to find them, but now that I know the truth, I can't. The hunter, my biological father, could track me, and then find them.

And I prefer to live without them than have them die indirectly at my hands.

Nick looks at me with something that's too close to being pity, and without saying another word, he turns around and leaves. I let him, standing frozen in the doorway until someone pulls me back into my apartment and closes the door. Derek leads me to my bed and sits me down, but I slide to the floor, needing something solid to hold onto. He sits next to me, his arm touching mine. We sit in silence, and after a while- I don't know how long- I turn to look at him.

"Did you hear all of that?" I ask. He nods, his green eyes looking straight into mine. I rest my head on my knees, looking at him- I mean _really_ looking at him- for the first time. He has a strange expression on his face, but I can see in him the feeling I've been longing for for the longest time.

Kinship.

He understands. I knew we were of the same background when I read about his family, but now he knows the whole story. He knows I've lost my pack as well, and why. He doesn't hold me- that would be much too intimate for him- but he stays next to me, and I know that I'm not alone. Even if it's only for an hour or two.

* * *

"What's up with you two?" Stiles asks the moment he walks into the apartment. Yeah, even Stiles catches onto the tension. See, it's a bit of an awkward situation. I fell asleep on Derek's shoulder last night, and of course, Derek, being the issue-ridden person that he is, freaked out and pushed me away when he woke up. In his defense, he wasn't fully awake when he grabbed me by the neck and shoved me to the floor, but needless to say, I've been grouchy ever since. The door was left open for Stiles, and he strolls in as if he owns the place, immediately setting up his laptop on the kitchen counter.

"Nothing," I immediately respond, turning on the light in the oven to see if the food is ready. Derek is laying on my bed, antsy from waiting for Scott to get the necklace. He apologized in his own way—demanding to know why the hell I hadn't gone to sleep on my bed, never mind that he fell asleep, too- and, save for asking me what there was for breakfast, hasn't spoken a word to me. "Danny knows to come here?"

"Yup, gave him the map and everything," Stiles confirms. This piques Derek's interest, and he sits up in the bed.

"What's going on?"

"The night in the school, Allison got a text from Scott, but it wasn't Scott," Stiles explains quickly. "We think it might have been the Alpha, so we're going to trace the text."

"Can you do that?"

"Nope, but I have a friend I met at a gay bar who can, and he just so happens to be Stiles' lab partner," I say pointedly. "See? Being nice means you make friends, and they come in handy." Stiles lowers his head and pretends to be absorbed in his work while Derek and I glare at each other.

"Hey Stiles, guess what?" Derek says loudly, and I know the moment the words leave his mouth that I'm not going to like what he's going to say. "Conner's single now. You should ask her to Winter Formal."

"What?" Stiles exclaims, eyes bugging out. I throw an oven mitt at Derek, which he catches right before it can hit his face. He promptly throws it out the open window, for no purpose other than to spite me. "You and Heath broke up? Why?"

"Religious differences," I answer flatly, still glaring at Derek. Derek holds up his hands defensively and picks up a book from the floor by my bed.

"Yeah, if religious differences counts as sleeping with your ex-girlfriend," Derek mutters. I grit my teeth, not bothering to ask him how he knows Heath slept with Linda. Chances are it was crystal clear to everyone but me. Luckily a knock comes at the door, and Stiles scrambles up to answer it.

"That must be-" He opens the door and laughs. "-Danny! My man! Come in!"

"Hi Danny!" I call, hurrying around the corner. He smiles and holds out his arms as I run forward, jumping onto him in a tight hug. When he puts me down, he holds me at arm's length and looks at me curiously.

"You look like shit," he informs me. I shrug; his reaction's perfectly normal upon seeing a girl with a burned hand covered in scratches and with a long row of stitches on her right shoulder. I hadn't thought about it when I'd put on my strapless blue shirt and jeans, but I've perfectly born my every wound to the public eye.

"Got thrown out of a window, didn't you hear?" I comment jokingly, ushering him in. He raises a brow, and I shake my head. "Nah, I fell through a glass door. It's pretty embarrassing, really."

"And the burned hand?" he asks, sitting down at the counter. Stiles sits down next to him. I jab a thumb at Derek.

"Helping this one out," I answer smoothly. "Had a bit of a run-in with a pressure cooker making dinner. Hence, working with oven mitts now." I turn off the oven and slip on the oven mitt I haven't thrown at Derek. "Hope you guys like lasagna."

"I love lasagna!" Stiles gushes. Within two minutes the lasagna is out of the oven and the two boys are served. Not feeling entirely evil, I cut a piece for Derek and take it to him, holding out the plate with a serious expression.

"Peace offering," I mouth. He waits only two seconds before accepting the lasagna and starting to eat. Figuring it's best to leave Stiles to convince Danny to help us out, I sit down next to Derek to eat my own piece of lasagna.

"You owe me a new oven mitt," I whisper calmly, loud enough for him to hear.

"I'll get it later."

He finishes his food, and with a frown, I notice he has sauce on his shirt. "You dirtied your shirt," I say, touching the stain. When my fingers don't feel moisture, I realize it's not sauce, but rather blood. I put my plate on the floor and motion for him to stand up and follow me. He sighs softly, but I walk into the closet and make a quick motion with my hand at him. At his questioning look, I elaborate. "Shirt. Off."

He waits a second to see if I'm serious. When I don't back down, he takes his shirt off and tosses it onto my bed. I try not to look at his shirtless self and turn around to look for a shirt in my closet. I come back a minute later with a blue t-shirt and hold it out to him. "Try that on for size. It's my cousin's." He holds it up doubtfully, but puts it on anyways. I divert my gaze as he pulls the shirt over his head and I turn to look at the boys. Danny is shyly eyeing Derek, and Stiles has just taken notice.

"Who's he?" Danny asks, nodding at Derek. Derek looks at me, holding out his arms to prove his point. The shirt is _definitely _too small.

"Oh, him? That's Conner's friend..." Stiles trails off, trying to come up with a believable fake name. "... Miguel."

I can't help but giggle at Derek's look that makes me fear for Stiles' physical wellbeing. I motion for him to give me the shirt, and he promptly takes it off. When he hands it to me, I pause to admire his shoulders, pretending to size him up. Yes, he is definitely one of the most handsome men I have ever come across.

"Friend?" Danny asks with a raised brow. I clear my throat and retreat into the closet, instead grabbing one of my brother's shirts. I normally wear it as a pajama because it reaches halfway down my thighs, so it has to be big enough to fit Derek. I hold it out to Derek, but he's too busy balling his fists to notice. Apparently Stiles has said something to irritate him even more.

"Derek, please cover up, you're gonna give somebody a heart attack," I scold jokingly, knowing Danny must be checking him out. Getting on my tiptoes, I pull the shirt over his head, then pull him into the closet with me. He stumbles forward slightly, grabbing onto me until he regains his balance. I pull the shirt down so that his face is no longer covered by the shirt and smile sympathetically at him.

"Let me guess. Stiles is taking advantage of your physique to convince Danny to help us." He rolls his eyes and weaves his arms into the sleeves. It's a long sleeved shirt and it fits him loosely, but it's better than having the life choked out of him by Jeremy's clothes.

"I'll get him later," he vows quietly. I smile at his frustration and smooth out his sleeves.

"Try not to hurt him too badly, I've grown quite attached to Stalinsky."

He rolls his eyes again, but then stops, noticing something. His attention focuses on my neck, and unconsciously I reach up to touch the spot that he's looking at. It hurts slightly when I touch it, and I realize it's a bruise from when he grabbed me during his morning freak out. Apparently it's visible too, because suddenly he's reaching forward, carefully touching the tender skin.

"Do you bruise easily?" he asks.

"Yes," I lie quickly. Normally I'm able to control my heart rate to disguise a lie, but for some reason, he's caught me off guard. I know he hears my heart rate pick up, but he doesn't acknowledge it and lowers his hand. Now he's looking at my bandaged right hand, and I can practically read his thoughts: originally, that hand was burned helping him out with the wolfsbane bullet incident.

"Don't," I warn, holding up a finger. The finger is red and scarred, but I hope that my stern look makes up for it. "I will not hear apologies. I made my choices." Before he can say anything, I look at my watch and groan. "Damn. I have to get to work. You make sure Stiles and Danny don't burn down my flat?" He nods, an unreadable expression on his face. I grab my leather jacket off the hanger and pull it on, pausing right before I leave the closet. I've been through a lot in the past couple of hours, what harm would it do?

"Oh, what the hell?" I mutter, then turn around and grab his face between my hands. Leaning up on my tiptoes, I kiss his cheek softly, then step back. I don't wait to see his reaction and hurry out, smiling innocently at Stiles. He's giving me the thumbs-up, meaning Danny's going to help us out. "Perfect! Text me," I mouth out silently to him. He nods, and I walk up between him and Danny. I give both boys quick pecks on the cheeks before making my way out of the apartment. Danny seems completely unaffected- I met him before my family left, when I would kiss everyone on the cheek-, but Stiles has turned beet red and is completely flustered.

Distantly, I smile at how much the Sheriff's son has weaseled his way into my heart.

* * *

The long-term hospital wing is unusually quiet when I hurry inside, guitar held tightly at my side. The sun has just started to set and the nurses are supposed to be switching swifts, but nobody is around. I peek into the rooms of patients that are normally here, and frown upon seeing that none of them are here. This is weird. Even if the nurses aren't around, aren't the patients supposed to be in their rooms...? I set my guitar carefully on the counter and wander farther into the wing.

"Nurse Kelly?" I call. Kelly is the redheaded nurse taking care of Peter. She always seems to be around when I'm called into work. Wondering if Peter's also disappeared with the rest of the patients, I peek into his room, turning on the light hopefully. His wheelchair is in its usual spot by the window, but he's not in it. Frowning, I cross my arms and try to remember if any of the nurses mentioned me being transferred elsewhere.

"Looking for somebody?"

The voice is smooth as silk, and with a feeling like ice sliding down my back, the dismal circumstances I've been caught in hit me. Derek and Scott are all occupied, I'm injured, and I left my gun in the car, as work policy demands. Closing my eyes for a moment, I take a deep breath and turn around.

"I think I just found-" I choke on the swift remark when I'm met with light, curious eyes in a half-burned face. "-Peter?" I exclaim, stumbling back. He smiles with more affection than he should and steps forward, following me into his room. He's wearing a long black coat and stands at a solid height, holding more strength in his stance than a comatose victim is supposed to have even weeks after recovery. "You're the Alpha?"

"Surprised?" he asks, cocking his head to the side. "Oh, don't look at me that way." Slowly, I start to backtrack and put the pieces together. I feel my face pale as I remember everything I've told this man, stupidly believing he wouldn't hear me or remember. How naive, and incredibly _stupid _I was...!

"You- you're the one who's been killing people?" I ask disbelievingly. "Jeff, George?"

"I only killed those responsible," he assures me. I don't feel at all reassured, and continue stepping back as he advances forward. The panic is starting to set in, and before I have time to contemplate how smart the move is, I rush to the window and start to pull it up. In seconds his arms frame me and he slams the window down, trapping me between him and the window. I grit my teeth and look at him in the glass reflection, bracing myself for whatever it is he's going to do. Smiling pleasantly at me, he raises his hand and runs the backs of his fingers down my cheek.

"Now, Conner," he begins, lowering his face so he whispers into my ear, "how about you show me those perfect canines?" And right before my eyes, my teeth start to grow and my eyes glow the unnatural bright blue of a natural-born werewolf. Peter smiles proudly and squeezes my shoulders, pride pouring out of his every feature.

"That's my girl."

* * *

**Post-Chapter Note:**

**I normally don't like to do this, but I'm going to wait at least until I get 5 reviews to publish the next chapter. Reviews are what make this whole thing fun, and I know you guys can do it! Have a great weekend :)**


	9. The Story of My Mother and My Fathers

**Author's Note:**

**Wow guys! Just, wow! Thank you all soooo much for the enthusiastic responses last chapter! Hopefully this chapter clears things up a bit ;) I just moved to a new city, so things are a bit hectic, but I promise I'll try and get the next chapter out ASAP! There's a lot of explaining in this chapter, but in Chapter 10 there will definitely be more Derek... Again, thanks so much to everyone who reviewed and is now following :D!**

* * *

"You just had to go and smash her cellphone, didn't you?" Stiles snapped, driving his Jeep full-speed to the hospital. Only minutes after Conner left, Danny was able to trace where the text had come from: Nurse McCall's computer in Beacon Hills General Hospital. Where Conner was going to work. Naturally Stiles had called her phone, only to find it in pieces across the kitchen floor, at which point human and werewolf bolted for Stiles' Jeep and started to drive.

"How was I supposed to know this would happen?" Derek demanded, resisting the urge to hit Stiles. "If you're going to blame anyone, blame the football player."

"Heath?" Stiles said doubtfully, raising both brows. "So Heath snuck into Conner's apartment and broke her phone, huh?" Derek gave him a challenging look and Stiles shook his head. "Yeah, you have serious jealousy issues."

They were both anxious and at each other's throats, looking at the clock on the dashboard and counting the minutes as they got closer and closer to the hospital. It was doubtful that Scott's mother was the Alpha, but even if she wasn't, the Alpha was somebody who had easy access to the hospital: a doctor, a nurse, or even a family member of a patient, and Conner came into contact with all of those every time she went into work. They both knew that the Alpha knew who she was even before he started to attack, and that only made matters worse: it would be easy for someone she knew to pull her apart. And of course, it had to be in a hospital, where fire arms were severely frowned upon, so they didn't even have the consolation that she could just shoot whoever attacked her.

"Why the hell is the Alpha so interested in her, anyway?" Stiles asked suddenly, breaking Derek out of his thoughts. "I mean, her family's a pack of werewolves, right? If they left because she was human, wouldn't turning her give them an excuse to take her back?"

"It's not that simple," Derek said. "There's a difference between a pack and a family, and we don't abandon family because they're human." He'd overheard the conversation with her brother and had managed to put the pieces together, but he knew that even a simple human version of the story would be one she wouldn't want to share with everyone. People talked, and after his experiences with his own family tragedy, he was certain she didn't want to go through what he did, hearing the rumors spoken every time she entered a room.

"And why didn't she turn when he attacked her at the gas station?" he pressed. "She got hit pretty bad, so shouldn't-?"

"Stiles-"

"No, wait, hear me out," he insisted, holding up an arm to shield himself. "Conner's had even more encounters with the Alpha than Scott, and Scott was turned the first time the Alpha even laid eyes on him. What makes Conner different?"

"Are you trying to say that you think Conner's immune?"

"No, I don't think so," Stiles corrected, shaking his head. "She heals faster than a human, and on the night of the full moon, she was able to track down Scott without any help. I think-"

"She didn't turn on the full moon," Derek reminded him, "and she's still a shipwreck after that night at the school. Need I mention her hand?"

"Well then, wise guy, what bright ideas do you have?" Stiles snapped, throwing his hands up. "Think she's a vampire or something?"

A glare was the only response Derek needed to give to discard that last desperate theory.

* * *

In this moment, looking into a pair of alien blue eyes above the set of canines I always secretly longed tohave, every lesson my father and brothers have ever taught me comes to the surface. I duck and swerve around Peter, bolting for the door. Not missing a beat he grabs a handful of my hair and pulls me back, slamming me against the wall. He holds me there by my neck, the action completely effortless on his part. I clamp my hands onto his wrist, my unfamiliar claws digging into his skin.

"How?" I demand, the word coming out like a growl. The sound of my voice shocks me, but that doesn't stop me from glaring at him as if I want him dead. He cocks his head to the side and gives me an almost pitying look.

"How what, Bird?" he asks. I snarl at his use of my family's pet name for me, but he doesn't even seem to notice. "How did I make you shift? I simply asked nicely."

"Don't play with me!" I yell, kicking out at him. He stumbles back and lets me go, but when I hit the ground and get to my feet, I don't try and run away. Peter dusts off his coat, then looks at me with that same pleasant expression. "I didn't turn on the full moon after you bit me! Why the hell am I like this?" I hold out my claws at my sides, shaking them to make a point.

"I already told you, Conner Fitz," he says, stepping forward, "I asked you nicely to show me your teeth. You, however, are asking the wrong person the wrong questions. Might I suggest a nice talk with your father?"

"Which father?" I ask icily. "The one that abandoned me, or the one that killed my mother?"

He frowns, confused by something I said. "Aren't they one and the same?"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I exclaim. I realize I preferred him while he was in a coma. He sighs and again looks at me with that pitying expression.

"You don't know anything about who you are, do you?" he says, as if he's just had a grand realization. All I can do is glare at him, and hope he stops sounding like the worst riddler in existence. "Your father killed your mother when he realized you weren't his daughter. How else did you think Steven became an Alpha?"

"My father isn't an Alpha," I argue. "He's a beta, just like everyone else."

"Is he really?"

"Yes!" I yell. It can't be true. Only hours ago, Nick told me a hunter killed my mother, the hunter that's my father! Now this Alpha is telling me that the man who raised me killed my mom? Whose story am I supposed to trust, this Alpha's that's killed without mercy, or my brother's, who would never lie to me?

But then again, who told my brother that a hunter killed my mother in the first place?

I feel a fire start in my stomach and work its way up, the rage wanting to take control. I ball my fists and take a steadying breath, fighting down the anger my brothers always tried to describe to me. My mother's coaching for all of us comes to mind, and I focus on breathing and letting go of the anger. After a couple of seconds, I've managed to lower my heart rate to a reasonable pace, and can look at Peter without the overwhelming urge to bash his face in. But I can't think about my mom, I just can't.

"About becoming an Alpha..." I narrow my eyes at him, still trying to put the pieces together. "You killed Derek's sister, Laura. And then you went and killed all those people in town, including George."

"Laura was a tragic accident, done in a moment when I lost control. Other than her, I only killed those responsible," he says, repeating that same phrase he used earlier. "That schizophrenic kid from the gas station? He chained the front doors of my home right before his friends set it on fire." He moves forward, and I hold my ground. "And your precious boyfriend's father?"

"Ex-boyfriend," I feel the need to correct.

"So drunk on the job he overdosed me, pushing me to the catatonic state I've been in for six years." His jaw is tight, and I can tell it's an effort to keep his anger under control. Even I feel like I've been punched in the gut, thinking of what Peter went through at the hands of the doctor. Those close to the doctor knew he'd had a "small" problem with alcohol during his near-divorce with his wife several years ago, but he'd been sober for the past four years. Apparently he hadn't cleaned up in time to save Peter.

"So you tell me, Conner... What do you think would give justice to my family and myself?" he asks, once again right in front of me. I lower my face, unsure what to say. That he needs to forgive those who have wronged him? How can you tell someone to forgive someone for burning their family alive in cold blood, children and mothers alike?

"When you think of your father killing your mother..." He runs a hand down my cheek, then grips my chin softly and tilts my head up. "... What do you want to do?"

When I look at him, all I can think of is how those red Alpha eyes look so much like my mother's. She very rarely looked at me with those eyes, but when she had to put the pack back in line, those red irises reminded everyone who was the Alpha, and made me swell with pride at the thought that I was her daughter. My brothers were from my father's first marriage to a human woman who ran away when she realized her three sons were wolves, but they loved my accepting mom as if she was their own, and respected her as such. It was incredible how we could all both love and fear her, enough that neither of us would ever dare lie to her face.

"I want him to burn," I whisper, a lone tear slipping out of the corner of my eye. I can't lie under those red eyes, and I can't pretend that I'm so noble I don't completely agree with this murderer. "Every single one of them deserves to burn."

As soon as the words leave my mouth, pain explodes in my back, knocking me to my knees. Peter surges forward and holds me up, but someone grabs the back of my jacket and jerks me away, throwing me onto the floor. The feeling in my back is one I recognize as a gunshot, and I can't move from the pain. Shadows border my vision as I look up and try to figure out what's happening, but all I see is the dark ceiling and a figure standing over me, facing Peter.

"Hope you don't mind me borrowing her for a little chat," the person says. His voice is familiar, but unconsciousness is creeping up on me and I can't remember where I've heard it before.

"I need her," Peter informs the man, apparently only mildly annoyed by the intrusion. "There need to be at least three."

"Come on, Peter. For old time's sake. We'll only be a little while."

Peter must agree with the terms, because seconds later there's a pinprick in the side of my neck, and everything fades into darkness.

* * *

I dream of the last time I saw my mother.

_I'm laying in a hospital bed, a thick handmade quilt spread over my legs to make me feel more at home. My brothers have just left for the night and Mom is sitting next to me, tuning her old guitar by ear. Her long brown hair is a beautiful mass of thin braids with beads laced into them, making her seem more like a tribal wolf warrior than the nurturing mother she really is. Satisfied that the guitar is tuned, she adjusts the guitar on her knee and looks up at me, her pale green eyes almost disappearing behind her cheeks as she smiles._

_"Are you ready to hear the next song you're going to learn?" she asks. She has a light British accent that she's been slowly losing over the years, the accent she picked up after living in Manchester, England for ten years. She moved back to California once she finished grade school and started going to college at Stanford, where she met my father. Well, not my biological father, but Steven, the one that helped raise me. They married when she was halfway through her doctorate's degree, and had me months later. And then, several years later, she died._

_But I'm not thinking about that right now. My body is buzzing from the pain medication and I feel a little dizzy, but I nod, and carefully lift myself up so that I can see her better. My bullet wound hurts dully, but I ignore the pain and look at her curiously._

_See, there was an accident while I was out practicing shooting in the forest. My brothers thought it would be fun to tag along for a couple of hours. Then, of course, Hector had to go and bet that I couldn't shoot an apple off the top of his head like they did in the movies, and triple dog dared me to do it. I'd done it countless times with a dummy, so I agreed. Unfortunately, Hector's girlfriend happened to wander in just as I pointed the gun at him, and pounced on me to lower the gun. The bullet ricocheted off the ground and hit my side, missing major organs by a hairs breadth._

_Mom starts playing a song, nodding her head to the beat. I don't recognize the song at first, but then she starts to sing, and I immediately remember and smile. "Blackbird singing in the dead of night, take these broken wings and learn to fly," she sings quietly, "All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arrive..."_

_She slows down in certain parts so I can see the changes she does with her fingers and take note of the tabs she uses to play the song. When she finishes, she gives me the guitar for me to try. She places my fingers over the correct tabs and helps me play the first part of the song, pausing after every note change. Once she feels I've gotten the hang of it, she starts to sing along to my playing._

_At some point I notice my father's standing in the doorway, and stop playing. Mom's senses should have picked up on his presence, so I can only assume she's ignoring him. He doesn't look at me and gestures for my mom to leave the room with him. When I look at her, her eyes are narrowed slightly and she looks like she doesn't want to. Even so, she gets up from her seat, gives me a peck on the forehead, whispers that she loves me and promises to come back, and walks out. They walk down the hallway together out of my sight, but neither comes back._

I wake up slowly, opening my eyes to see a white popcorn textured ceiling and a ceiling fan. The smell of far too many cinnamon candles burning makes my nose twitch, and almost immediately I sneeze. A familiar woman's laugh is coming from my left, and when I turn, there's a television playing a home video. In the video, my mother's sitting on a La-Z-Boy, her legs thrown over the side with a book open on her knees. She's wearing a pair of thick-framed plastic glasses and her hair is loose, the thick curls almost completely covering her shoulders like a shawl. She throws a pillow at the cameraman and he dodges, laughing a booming laugh.

"Leni, come on, just say it!" the cameraman urges. My mom groans and closes her book, a thick psychology text book.

"Must you be so stubborn?" she demands. Her accent is much thicker in the video than I remember it being, so the video could be even older than I am.

"It's what you love the most about me," the cameraman says teasingly. His voice sounds so familiar, but I can't seem to place it. She sticks her tongue out at him, but it's in defeat, not defiance.

"I, Leni, future psychologist," she begins, rolling her eyes, "love you, Roy Blackbird. Happy?"

Just as my stomach drops, the television shuts off. I sit up in a flash and look around wildly, the reality of my situation hitting me all at once. I'm in an unfamiliar, scarce studio apartment like mine with a bed pushed up against the wall and the worn couch I was laying on set facing a plasma television. The lights are all on, making the apartment bright despite the bad situation. Last thing I remember was being in the hospital with Peter Hale, who, by the way, is the frickin' Alpha, and then everything is a blur. There's a short clatter from the kitchen and I jump to my feet, whirling around to face the other person.

Roy Blackbird stands there, the TV remote held in his hand and a wary look on his face. I sway for a moment and grip the edge of the couch, clenching my eyes shut and focusing on staying upright. He makes no move to approach me, but just in case I growl, baring my fangs and glaring. The memories are coming back now, and I remember being shot. My back's thankfully healed, but it doesn't change the fact that he attacked me, and now knows what I am.

"What the hell?" I manage to grit out between my teeth. He motions for me to sit at one of the bar stools, but I shake my head shortly. "I'd rather stand." He nods, accepting my answer, and walks around the counter to sit at the stool himself.

"I suppose you have several questions for me," he says. I don't respond, and he folds his hands on his lap. "For starters, you're a werewolf." I scoff.

"A regular Sherlock Holmes, aren't you?" I say sarcastically. He continues as if I haven't said anything.

"And as I'm sure you've deduced, you weren't turned by Peter Hale's bite." He points at my face. "Blue eyes, just like your mother's. You were born this way."

"Which perfectly explains my accelerated healing factor and my not turning on the full moon."

"No, you can thank your mother for that," he corrects, again ignoring my attitude. I wait for him to explain, and he doesn't keep me waiting long. "Leni was, for several years, a very successful psychologist. She was fascinated by the way the werewolf side of a person could make them lose all contact with their human selves." He pats three old notebooks on the counter. "So, she started to investigate ways to suppress the werewolf side of a person completely. Being an Alpha gave her a natural advantage when it came to manipulating betas, as well as humans."

"You were her first successful suppression." He looks at me, his golden eyes piercing right through mine. Slowly, I feel my canines receding along with my claws, until my face has taken on its human form again. "You inherited her incredible self-control, passing lie detecting tests as if it was a game and calming yourself down from your own temper tantrums like an adult. So, once she was convinced she'd perfected her technique, she took you to our cabin for 'summer camp', and started treatment. You were six years old."

"Treatment?" I repeat. "What kind of treatment? And why would she even want to suppress someone's Instinct?" I don't remember anything he's talking about, but the way he's explaining things to me, he doesn't expect me to.

"Treatment to suppress the wolf side of a person so that it could only come out when triggered. The trigger was supposed to be something that the person couldn't come across easily, like a verse from an obscure poem, but..." He trails off and shrugs. "Something about an Alpha throws the whole thing to shit, and breaks the bind on the Instinct."

Which is why I didn't turn until Peter told me to.

"As to why, Leni wasn't a natural-born beta like yourself. She was born human, and bitten when she was sixteen by a local Alpha," he explains. "That Alpha had lost control and attacked her and her family in a rage. She and her sister survived and were turned, but their father didn't. She retaliated by killing him the following full moon, making her an Alpha. Even as a newborn, she was able to fully control herself, and wanted to give those who wanted control the ability to suppress the Instinct if they wanted to. So, she used hypnotism, something we picked up in college."

"Wait, how did you know my Mom?" I ask. "The video, and what I've been told- I know the story about my grandfather, but nothing else that you're telling me makes sense." He's saying things I don't dare accept, and my ears are ringing as I step back, looking around for an escape. The only way out is the front door next to the kitchen, and I know if I make a break for it, he'll simply pull the gun at his hip out of its holster and shoot me senseless again. He nods at the television.

"As the video proves to you, we were in love," he answers simply. "College sweethearts."

"No, she was with my father in college," I argue. He closes his eyes momentarily and nods in agreement.

"Yes, she was, in graduate school," he replies. "But the four years she studied at Stanford, she was with me."

"But they met at Stanford," I press, still not understanding. His jaw tightens and he nods again.

"Yes, they did, but she was with me," he insists. "Steven, Leni and I were best friends." That throws me for a loop, and it must show in my face, because he barks a laugh. "Yeah, I know. Two werewolves and a hunter, friends? It's almost an oxymoron. However, it's the truth. I come from a family of hunters, so it was easy enough to figure out what they were, and I kept it to myself." He shrugs and smiles. "I'd rejected the family business and I was in love with her, so I kept her secret, even if she didn't share it with me. Steven was in love with her too, but she chose me, and that pretty much broke the man." He leans back against the counter and crosses his arms. "He started to investigate, found out about my hunter background on graduation day, and told Leni that my family and I were planning to kill them. They were gone by morning."

"Was it true?" I can't help but ask. He scoffs.

"If it was, Steven wouldn't have found out about it," he states confidently. "No, we weren't planning to kill her or her pack. My family was clueless, and I'd made it very clear to them that I didn't want to be a hunter." He lays a hand on his gun. "It wasn't until she left that I gave in and started to train."

"And how did you find her again?" I can't disguise my curiosity, nor my surprise at everything he's telling me.

"She found me about five years later when my parents died," he says, his voice calm as if he's already over the loss. "You should know, she could never stop herself from comforting others, even her enemies. I was able to explain myself, and she believed me. I wasn't ever able to lie to her, but it also helped that Steven was overly controlling, and their marriage was going to shit." He says the last part so nonchalantly, it's everything to not punch him.

"You're forgetting that man is my father," I remind him bitterly. "The man who raised me."

"He's also the man that wanted to kill you when he found out that you are not, in fact, his," Roy shoots back smoothly. "When she married him, she was unknowingly pregnant, and believed you to be a premature birth. As you got older, however, it would have take an idiot to not see the similarities between you and me." Unwillingly my eyes scan over him, taking in the strangely tinted red hair, the yellow-hued eyes, the naturally tanned skin... He shrugs. "My parents dying gave her the excuse to contact me and make sure."

He pulls a manila envelope off of the counter and holds it out to me. "The paternity test is there, addressed to your mother," he assures me. I cautiously take it from him and open it, never once removing my eyes from him. Surely enough, after skimming over the lab results, his claim is confirmed. I toss it onto the couch, masking my shock with cool indifference.

"Those could easily be forged," I say smoothly, crossing my arms. "I'd like a new test run." I pause, and raise a brow. "If you plan to not try and kill me, that is."

He laughs suddenly, and I force myself to ignore how familiar the sound is already. "Conner, I have to be honest with you," he starts, laying his hands on his knees, "when the Alpha bit you, I considered killing you." I growl, and I know my eyes are glowing blue. "But, I can't do that anymore." I pull back my wolf side with ease. "You... while you look like me as a human, you're the spitting image of your mother as a wolf." He shakes his head, still chuckling. "And Lord knows I wouldn't have been able to even throw a paint-ball at that woman."

"So... you're not going to kill me," I clarify, not entirely sure what he meant. He nods. "And the other hunters?"

"The Argents know you're my daughter," he informs me. I feel strangely violated with this piece of news. "And the Argents know the kind of hunter that I am. They know I'll eliminate the threat if it presents itself, and won't touch you without my go. I haven't let them know that I know you're a werewolf." He raises his brows then in warning. "But there's only so much I can do. You need to keep your secret from them."

"How?" I ask. "They should know by now the kind of family I come from, and that the Alpha has an interest in me."

"You didn't turn the night of the full moon when I followed you, so they've concluded that you haven't turned," he says reassuringly. "They don't know about your mother or her pack, so they believe the Alpha's using you to get to me."

"How does Peter know about you?"

He groans and drops his head back. "Sweetheart, when you take down as many Alpha's as I have, word travels," he replies, grinning sarcastically. "This apartment is my only safe haven, signed under a different name with an underground tunnel connecting it to a parking garage half a mile away."

"And now I know about it," I finish slowly. He nods.

"And Derek Hale," he adds. I frown, and he waves a hand. "Don't worry, your boyfriend will be here soon enough to pick you up, and then I'll be moving."

"He's not my boyfriend."

"Well, he's rushing over here like he is," he says, pointing at something behind me. I look over my shoulder and see a wall of monitors that wasn't there before, showing security footage in a parking lot and motel-like hallways. A black blur moves past three of the monitors, and I turn to look back at Roy questioningly. The bar stool he was occupying is empty, and the front door is ajar. Seconds later something solid collides into my side, crushing me to the ground.

Instinctively I push what I assume to be Derek away, but he seems completely unaffected and pins my wrists, lifting himself up on his elbows. His eyes are glowing a bright blue and his canines are extended, the pearly white teeth right in my face. I wait for him to realize I'm not a threat, and surely enough, after he looks up and listens, he withdraws the fangs.

"Are you alright?" he asks, watching the door in case anyone decides to walk in. I look down at the compromising position we're in- him shackling my wrists, his lower body pinning mine down- and drop my head back to the floor. My heart rate is picking up and the temptation to kiss the neck in front of me is nearly overwhelming, so I set my jaw and put up a front.

"Careful Derek, you sound almost concerned," I mutter. He gives me a look and I sigh. "Okay, well, this werewolf jumped through the window and tackled me, but other than that, I can't complain." It takes him a moment to realize that I'm talking about him, at which point he quickly gets up and extends a hand to help me up. I accept, needing the extra help now that my legs are almost Jell-O. "Don't worry, the hunter's gone already. He saw you and bolted."

"And?" he presses. "Are you alright?"

The question of the hour.

I actually look around now, seeing the apartment in a new light. There is hardly any decoration, but the walls are painted a light cream color, just like mine. The bed is a simple full-size bed with deep green sheets, just like mine. There are no photographs hanging on the walls, but there's a locked file cabinet and a safe next to the bed, along with a wall of monitors that will fold into the wall. Protection. In my apartment, my protection is my weapons cabinet in the closet, and the box of wolfsbane kept over the refrigerator. Then I look at the television. Over it hangs a large dart board, with seven darts stuck in a circle around the innermost target.

I'm not a sharpshooter thanks only to practice. It runs in the genes.

"I... don't know," I admit quietly. "Can we get out of here?"

It must show that I'm about to pass out, because his hand is at my waist and he's steering me out the door in seconds. My pick-up truck is in the parking lot and he holds the keys in his left hand, meaning I must have dropped them in the commotion at the hospital. I scan the area, eyes peeled for Roy Blackbird, even if I know he isn't around. My first instinct would have been to get as far away as possible, and I assume that he would be in agreement with that. As we approach my car, I look up at the building. It's a pretty unpretentious apartment building, resembling a motel in some aspects. The door we came out of blends in perfectly with the other doors along the first floor hallway, not standing out or catching any attention in the least.

And yet, that's the apartment my biological father lives in.

Well, used to live in.

Derek opens the door for me and I climb in, surprised that the action doesn't cause me any pain in the slightest. I've completely healed from the gunshots to the back, as well as from my fall out the window. When Derek closes the door, I look at my right hand, not sure what to expect. It doesn't hurt at all, but it's not miraculously healed like the rest of my body. The burn scars are very much present, rippling red skin marring my whole hand save for the pads of my fingers, but the scar looks like it's several months old, and not days or weeks old like it is. He gets into the driver's seat next to me and starts the engine, pulling out of the parking lot like an expert. Apparently he knows how to drive more than just sports cars.

"Where are we?" I ask. I don't recognize the apartment complex, but the area looks slightly familiar.

"Not too far from where you live," he says, driving onto a main road.

"And how did you find me?"

"My Uncle told me a hunter took you, and gave me the address."

Maybe it's the mental exhaustion, but when he says that, I can't help but snort. "Yeah, Uncle Peter, Killer Alpha Extraordinaire," I mutter sarcastically. "I take it you're up to date on his no-longer-in-a-coma status."

"Yes. He wants to talk to you," he says, his jaw tight. He's bracing himself for my reaction, I know he is, but quite frankly, I'm too tired to give him much.

"Please tell me that isn't where we're going." His silence is answer enough. I sigh and close my eyes. "And where is he staying?"

"His nurse's house. She lives alone, but the house is big enough for the time being." I know what's not being said, that it's big enough for all of us, but I don't argue. Hell, why even bother right now? If I'm against Peter, I lose Derek, the only person that could quite possibly understand my newfound situation; if I'm with Peter, I'll most likely be forced to kill people. Given, the people that will be killed will be those responsible for annihilating a whole family overnight, but even I don't know if I have what it takes to kill a person.

We reach a simple suburban home and Derek parks in the driveway. After a second the garage door opens, and he drives inside. The garage is completely empty, and for a moment, I wonder at what kind of person the nurse is. Everybody has something in their garage, and yet hers is completely spotless. Derek turns off the truck, and taking a breath to steady my nerves, I take off my seatbelt and follow him out the driver's side door. My body is completely healed, and although my mind is a bit of a mess, I'm aware of my decision as my feet hit the floor. I decide to blame exhaustion, though, as I throw caution to the wind and grab Derek's hand.

"Hey, Derek?"

He turns to look at me, a questioning look on his face. "Thanks for finding me," I say, smiling softly. He nods and starts to walk away, but I pull him back, this time framing his face with my hands. He doesn't pull away, but there's a confused look in his eyes, which I ignore. Shutting my eyes, I lift myself onto my tiptoes and kiss his lips softly, pulling back before he has the chance to push me away. His lips were soft and felt perfect against mine, surprising considering how tough of an exterior he has. I smile sheepishly and shrug. "Thanks," I repeat, my voice breathier than I would have liked. He frowns and looks away, taking a step back.

"You're welcome," he says huskily. He walks away quickly, pulling open the garage door and walking into the house. A part of me is offended, but that's the little girl in me. The wolf that's been awakened understands that there are more important matters going on, and I'll have my chance to win him over later.

And yet, even if he isn't the affectionate type, he barreled into a hunter's apartment for no reason other than to save me. That has to be the ultimate demonstration of affection any wolf could give.

* * *

**Post-Chapter Note:**

**I truly appreciate all of the feedback I got last chapter! Let me know what you guys thought of this...? Please? :) Take care everyone!**


	10. Tension

**Author's Note:**

**Okay, you guys are simply awesome :) You've been so supportive of this story, and I love it! Some of you asked for more time for the other characters, as well as some Derek interaction. There's a little bit of both here, so I hope you enjoy!**

**And anyone keeping up with the show? It's insane, I love what's going on with Stiles! And Jackson! And I just love watching the hunters, they're great... Anyways, on with this story :D**

* * *

**To: Stiles – 7:00 AM**

Hey! It's Conner :) Miguel bought me a new phone, and this is my #!

**To: Conner – 7:25 AM**

UR ALIVE?

**To: Conner – 7:26 AM**

If u r, come with me to winter formal? :) Scott wants to go, and ur humor would be welcome, and your gun with all the Alpha business.

**To:Conner – 7:27 AM**

Oh, and Jackson knows Scott is a werewolf. The idiot wants THE BITE.

**To: Stiles – 1:51 PM**

Sorry, fell asleep. I'm alive, and yes :) I'll take care of Jackson. Now, ready for some bad news?

**To: Conner – 1:51 PM**

If it has to do with the Alpha being Derek's uncle, we already know.

**To: Stiles – 1:52 PM**

Well, he's going after ppl Scott cares bout, like Allison. IDK if he'll actually bite anyone, but he's unstable.

**To: Conner – 1:53 PM**

What! How do u know?

**To: Stiles – 1:53 PM**

I'm double-agenting.

**To: Conner –1:54 PM**

WHY?

**To: Stiles – 1:55 PM**

Some1 has to watch "Miguel", and u guys r running blind. Alpha doesn't trust me much, but I'll win him over.

**To: Conner – 2:00 PM**

4get Miguel! Get out of there! We'll figure it out! Join Pack Scott and Stiles!

**To: Stiles – 2:01 PM**

I'd love to, but I can't, not until we have a plan. You guys need me here, or we're all screwed. If u get any ideas, text me.

**To: Conner – 2:01 PM**

Ideas for what?

**To: Stiles – 2:02 PM**

How 2 kill an Alpha.

* * *

"Who are you texting?"

I'm lounging on the couch bed, the house is completely silent, and these are the first words Derek's spoken to me since I kissed him last night. I drop my head back and see an upside-down Derek standing behind me, his tight jaw only a slight demonstration of how uncomfortable he feels. He's wearing a pair of jeans and a gray t-shirt that I can't help noticing looks just _fine _on him. I slide my phone shut and lay it on my stomach.

"So, you've concluded that I'm capable of carrying on a conversation without stealing your virtue?" I ask with mock surprise. "Call Sheriff Stalinsky and alert the press!"

"Don't change the subject," Derek warns tiredly, walking around the couch to the end where my feet are. He lifts my feet up and sits down, settling my legs on his lap. His left hand is on my ankles and his right arm is thrown over the back of the couch, a casual contradiction to the obvious tension. I pull my legs up to my chest and sit up, wrapping my arms around my knees. I can't function properly with the reaction my body has to him touching me. "Was it Scott?"

"No." I hold out my cell phone and show him the text that Stiles sent me early this morning. "Stiles asked me to Winter Formal. Isn't that nice?"

"Seriously?" Derek says, raising a brow. I roll my eyes and close my phone.

"You're just jealous nobody asked you to Winter Formal," I mutter. Yes, maturity points for me. "It's a shame. I bet you'd look good in a suit."

"Conner, are we really going to do this?" Derek asks just as my phone vibrates. I hold up a hand to silence him and read through the two incoming messages. One is from Stiles, and the second is Danny's response to a message I sent him only minutes before. I grin and jump off the couch, pulling on my ankle boots as I go. I'm wearing a pair of black skinny jeans and a loose t-shirt that's hanging off one shoulder, casual wear, but I don't care. I need to get out of this house and away from Derek, pronto.

"No, we aren't," I assure him, pulling on my second boot. "Danny just texted me that he is, indeed, going to the Winter Formal, which means he needs to go buy a suit, which also means I have a buddy to go dress-shopping with. We're meeting up at the mall in fifteen minutes."

"You can't go," he says, standing up. I notice his leather jacket thrown over the back of the couch and grab it as an afterthought; mine has bullet holes now, and my hair isn't long enough to cover them. "We're supposed to take care of the exposure problem."

"Yeah, Jackson, Danny's best friend," I remind him absentmindedly, rolling my shoulders. The jacket is noticeably too big to wear out, but I really don't have many choices anymore. The grunge look will have to do. "As in, the other guy going who happens to know about werewolves? And who also needs a suit? I'll take care of it." He scoffs.

"You'll take care of it?" he repeats doubtfully. I nod. "Conner-"

"Look, Derek, don't you get it?" I interrupt, done with playing it cool. "I can't stay in this house waiting for a killer Alpha to come back and possibly give me orders to kill somebody." I hold up my hands and back away, shaking my head. "Sue me, but I need some fresh air and quality gay friend time."

"No, what you _don't _need is a pissed off Alpha after you," he corrects. "Look at what's happening with Scott, and you're not even a werewolf." Yeah... when I got to the house late last night, Peter and I had a short talk. He wants to keep my new werewolf status a secret for the time being from everyone, even Derek. Apparently my link to the hunters is useful.

I groan, trying to pretend I'm tired of hearing his voice. Truthfully, not hearing it all day was actually getting to me, and even now when he's trying to stop me from leaving, it does something to my heart rate that shouldn't even be legal. _He _shouldn't even be legal. "I could care less about what pisses Peter off," I snap. "He's only a semi-functioning werewolf with a serious grudge and way too much power. He needs to be taken out."

"Then why did you agree to help?" Derek challenges. At that, I bark a laugh and look at him disbelievingly.

"You're really asking that question?" His lack in change of expression indicates that he is. "Wow. You really are clueless." I'm even slightly offended that he really doesn't get it. "Derek, I'm staying to keep an eye on you," I explain, watching him with a frown on my face as I do so. I was pretty certain that kissing him had pretty much declared that I cared about him. Apparently, it hadn't. "You, Stiles and Scott are the closest thing I have to a pack, and you've joined up with an Alpha that may or may not have intentionally killed your sister, and who will push you to kill people. I'm not going to let you lose yourself in this vendetta."

"They killed my family," he argues.

"And you didn't do anything about it!" I yell back. I can't help it: I want to hit him for acting like a moron. "For some reason I can't put my finger on, you haven't looked for revenge until now. So, you're either so blinded by the fact that your uncle is the Alpha that you can't see that he's fucking _psychotic_, or you're waiting for me to come up with a brilliant plan to take him down." I pull my keys out of my pocket and shake them meaningfully. "I'm hoping it's the latter, because I just _know _he killed Laura." I turn around and march to the front door. The door knob is securely in my hand when I feel his hand wrap around my arm, stopping me.

I freeze. It's like electricity running from him into me, and I'm momentarily paralyzed, my body insisting I relish in the feeling. He isn't grabbing me to fight, or in an act of survival. "Stay," he says quietly. He moves forward, lowering his hand so that his fingers lace with mine. My heart starts beating loudly against my chest and my skin prickles with awareness as he leans closer, his breath fanning across my neck warmly. "Just stay... with me."

I can't bring myself to react as he takes my other hand and pulls it off the door knob, turning me around to face him. My eyes stay focused on his chest as his hands slide to my waist, his fingers teasing the hem of my shirt and sliding underneath. My breath hitches as his skin comes in contact with mine, even if it's only his fingertips on my sides. I feel the desire burning up, and am embarrassed to see my hands shaking as I lift them up and place them on his strong shoulders. He leans down so that his face is only an inch from mine, and it takes every ounce of my strength to not raise my head and taste those lips.

"You smell like one of us," he comments, his voice husky. His breath brushes against my lips, which I can't help parting open ever so slightly even if I hear the part that he isn't saying out loud. That it's too bad I'm not. And that's like a punch to the gut. "Stay."

"When you mean that," I whisper, looking up into his green eyes, "and you're not taking advantage of my attraction to you like a manipulative bastard, I'll have no problem staying."

He grits his teeth and steps back, and I sigh to mask how much the loss of his proximity affects me. "Come on, you think I was born yesterday? As much as I'd like to make out until Peter gets back, you're not that kind of guy," I say, shrugging my shoulders. "And, quite frankly, I'm not your kind of girl. Your kind of girl is crazy werewolf beta. You've said as much. So, let's be realistic. You can't trust Peter, but you can't get out of this house because you'll get arrested." I point out the window. "I'm going to go out there and try to find a way to kill the Alpha before he messes up anything else," I state firmly. "I'll meet you at your old house to spook Jackson, as planned. If you rat me out to Peter, I'll forgive you, but I won't defend you when Scott and all of Beacon Hills turns their back on you." I poke a finger into the middle of his chest. "You may not like me, but I'm all you've got. The sooner you realize that, the better."

* * *

"So, Stiles tells me that you and Miguel are kinda a thing," Danny pipes up, searching through the racks for a good suit. "Is that true?"

Danny, Jackson and I are in a men's clothing store in the formal wear section, searching through the jackets for the right cut for Danny. We're looking for Danny's suit first because we want to find the happy medium between budget and style, and we're doing my dress last, because chances are Jackson's going to try and make up some bullshit excuse to bolt. But, I have a plan to keep that from happening.

I pull a jacket off the rack and hold it up to Danny, trying to determine how it will look on him. Satisfied, I hold it out to him. "This will look great," I inform him. He raises his brows, urging me to answer the question, and I roll my eyes. "Fine. The thing with Miguel is... complicated."

"How?" Jackson pipes up. He's standing on the other side of the rack, his brows pulled together in mock concern. "Does he swing for Danny's team? Because Danny-"

"No," Danny and I interrupt at the same time. Danny's giving Jackson a warning look, and I'm pretending not to notice. It was obvious that he had the hots for the werewolf.

"There's just too much going on right now for anything to happen," I finish, shrugging. Jackson scoffs.

"Bull," he states. "He isn't interested."

Danny lets out a low whistle and shakes his head. "I don't know, you didn't see what I did," he says. "There is _tension_."

"Then just do him and get it over with," Jackson says. "Problem solved. Or are you too much of a virgin to do that?"

"I really apologize for him," Danny says loudly, walking away. I laugh lightly and follow him, shaking my head.

"Don't worry, dealing with Miguel is much more challenging," I assure him. "Jackson's just acting out because I have a gun, and that freaks him out."

Danny looks at my hip holster and shrugs. "It's a pretty big gun."

"I'm carrying it around to compensate for something I don't have," I reason. Jackson coughs, catching on to the innuendo, and I smirk. "What's wrong, Jackson?"

"I'm gonna try this on," Danny states, stepping away. "You two, try not to kill each other?"

"Can't make any promises!" I call after him. Jackson and I sit down in two arm chairs set up outside the dressing room to wait. He lasts about a minute before he starts talking again.

"You'd think a girl who dressed like you wouldn't know the first thing about suits."

Jackson has his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed at me as we wait. I keep my eyes focused on the dressing room door, but keep my arms crossed as well so as not to hit him. "Is that your version of a compliment?" I ask, not bothering to hide my distaste. "Because looks can be very deceiving." He doesn't answer, but his gaze lowers to my hip and he shakes his head.

"Do you really need to carry that gun with you?"

"Why? Scared I'll shoot you?"

"It makes you seem like a psychopath," he states. I shrug.

"According to all of you idiots, Derek Hale was the psychopath attacking us at the school," I remind him. "I was too busy getting pushed out a window to pay much attention, while you guys waited in a chemistry classroom. Tell me, did you actually see Derek there?"

"What, is he a friend of yours?" he challenges. I scoff.

"Just as I thought," I conclude. "You haven't a bloody idea what happened that night."

"British now?"

"Mother," I answer smoothly. "You know, I thought you would have figured out already that it was a werewolf in the school, and not Derek trying to freak us all out." His handsome face visibly pales and his jaw tightens, but Danny chooses that particular moment to step out of the dressing room. I smile appreciatively and clap. "Now, that is one sexy piece of man there. Don't you agree, Jackson?"

Of course, Jackson doesn't answer, but Danny doesn't seem to expect him to and goes back into the dressing room to get changed. Immediately I fall back into the conversation we're having around Danny. "So, Scott tells me you've figured out his little secret."

"Yeah, and?" he asks, balling his fists. He's avoiding my gaze and acting indifferent, but I know he's just acting tough to cover up how caught off guard he is. His heart is racing in his chest, and for a moment I marvel at how clearly I can hear his heartbeat. Shaking my head to break the spell, I cross my legs, fold my hands over my knees and smile.

"I also hear that you want to be part of our pack." That sentence hits him like a sack of bricks and he stops breathing, jaw tight as he realizes that I'm also a werewolf. I can't help but chuckle at the humanity of his reaction and hold up a hand. "Chill, Jackson. I'm part of the pack, but I'm human. I'm not going to bare my fangs and... you know." I mock a lion roaring and pretend to claw the air. My humor is lost on him, and all I receive is a barely suppressed glare. "Derek's more that type."

"So what, you're buddies or something?" he asks in a mutter. I shrug.

"Our relationship's... complicated," I admit, dropping my head back with a sigh. "I mean, we're both in the same pack, and we have similar backgrounds, but..."

"Your family burned in a fire?"

"Nah. They left," I reply shortly. "Anyways, back on topic. You," I point at him, "are a liability. Which leaves me with two options." I hold up two fingers. "Either I convince our Alpha to give you the bite..." I lower one finger. "...Or we kill you." I shrug. "And, seeing as you've been nothing but an ass since I've met you, I'm not too sure I want you to be a part of the pack."

"I'll tell the Argents," he threatens. I scoff.

"And who do you think they'll believe? Some rich kid with a power complex, or a hunter's kid?" I challenge. At his confused look, I grin. "Yes, you heard me. Your father may be an esquire, but my father's a hunter, and that's about as high on this food chain as a human can get. So, you can discard your threatening plan. What's your back-up?"

His face reddens and he leans forward, baring his teeth. "If you lay a finger on me-!"

"Oh, I'm not going to touch you," I assure him innocently. "You're not my type. Kill you? I'll leave that to the others, seeing as you seem to be overlooking one major detail." I lean toward him conspiratorially. "I haven't made up my mind about you yet. You see, we don't just give out the Bite. When you're willingly bitten, it's an unspoken rule that you're brought into the pack. So, you need to be an asset to us, and we need to actually like you, too, to give you the Bite." I sit back in the chair, and focus on the dressing room. Danny's just finished getting changed and is unlocking the door. "You still have a couple of hours to convince me you're not a complete waste of space."

Danny comes out dressed in his t-shirt and jeans again and looks between Jackson and me. "So, I think I'm taking this one," he concludes, holding up the jacket I chose for him. He already has the slacks and a button-up shirt, so the searching is done. "Jackson, see anything you like?"

"No," Jackson answers tightly, standing up. Danny gives me a questioning look and I shrug, pretending not to know what's wrong with him. After Danny pays for the suit, we leave the store and survey the mall. I sigh and rub my hands together.

"Alright, moment of truth," I declare. "I need to get a dress. You're forgiven if you don't want to tag along." Right then, Danny's cell phone conveniently starts to ring. After checking the caller ID, he gives me an apologetic look and I smile. "Don't worry Danny, I can fend for myself. It's not the first time I buy a dress."

"Are you sure you'll be fine alone?" he asks. Jackson steps up next to me and drapes an arm over my shoulders.

"I'll go with her," Jackson says, an undertone of flirtatiousness in his voice. Danny gives me a questioning look and I nod, assuring him it's fine. I give him a quick peck on the cheek before he goes, and then turn around and start walking. Jackson pulls his arm back and stuffs his hands in his pockets. "So, are we really going to get a dress?" he asks. I loop my arm through his as if we're old friends.

"Yes, we are," I confirm. "Stiles is taking me to Winter Formal."

He scoffs, then looks at me, waiting for an indication that I'm joking. When there is none, the humor disappears from his face. "You're serious."

"He's a really great guy!" I exclaim defensively, steering him to a department store. "Not to mention he brought me flowers when I was stuck in the hospital after the damn Alpha pushed me out the window. Total sweetheart."

"I just don't get how Stalinsky would land a date with a girl like you," he mutters, the honesty in his voice surprising me. We're in the store now, and even if we're not in the section we're trying to get to, I can't help but stop. He stops too and raises his brows expectantly. "What?"

"Do you mean that?" I ask. When he doesn't understand the question, I elaborate. "I mean, the bashing of Stiles aside." He's looking at me like that again, as if he thinks I'm joking. After a second, he looks away and shrugs.

"You're not half bad."

Taking what little encouragement I can get, I start walking again to the dress section. Once there, I immediately start going through the racks, searching for colors and styles that catch my eye. Unfortunately, I lied when I told Danny that it wasn't the first time I shopped for dresses. I've never bought a formal dress before. Jackson stands at a safe distance watching me as I scour through the fancy fancy fabrics, completely at a loss as to what to choose.

Ten minutes into the hopeless search, I collapse against a pillar and slide to the floor with a groan. I don't know the first thing about buying a dress. A suit, sure: I've bought enough suits with my brothers to know what to look for. But dresses? Completely different story. When I open my eyes, Jackson's gone, and I let out a sigh. I should have expected as much. It's fine, I'll send Derek to his house later or something. A minute later two pairs of footsteps approach, one of them a pair of heels, and I look up to see Jackson accompanied by a store employee. She's a tan blond lady with a welcoming smile, and she holds out her hand to help me up.

"Don't worry honey, your boyfriend here told me about your predicament," she assures me. Warily I take her hand and stand up, giving Jackson a questioning look. What's she talking about? "We'll get you a dress in no time." She loops her arm through mine and steers me towards a different section. I look back at Jackson and he smirks, walking after us.

Within two minutes I have three dresses on my arm and the woman, Jean, has left to go see if she can get me a discount on shoes or something. I'm standing in front of the dressing room with Jackson, and once she's out of ear shot, I turn to him. "Okay, what did you do?" I demand. He's still smirking, and while I have to admit it's better than the hostility he's been giving off since we started this whole thing, it's still unnerving to not know what he's up to. "She's acting like I'm the Queen of England or something."

He shrugs easily. "She's one of my dad's clients," he explains. "She would help me pick out whatever presents I'd have to buy for Lydia."

I watch him with steady narrowed eyes. He isn't lying. "... You're being nice," I clarify. He smirks.

"You said I still had a couple of hours, didn't you?" he reminds me. Not completely rid of my suspicion, I leave my purse with him and back away into the dressing room, pulling the curtain closed on one of the stalls. As I undress, I muse about what Jackson's trying to do. Is he really trying to convince me he's not a waste of space? If he is, I'm surprised he's backed out of the threatening approach so easily. Apparently nothing Scott could say or do could convince him to be civil. Is it because I'm a girl? I roll my eyes and slip on the last dress Jean gave me, pulling up the zipper as far as I can before stepping out.

If it's because I'm a girl, then the look he gives me when I step out makes it clear that I have the advantage. He quickly covers up his shock and cocks his head to the side, looking me over. The dress is a skin-hugging strapless ivory dress with a dark green ribbon tied around the waist that ends just above the knees, a simple, but elegant piece. He nods his approval, and I awkwardly turn to look at myself in the mirror. Even if I'm not used to this kind of clothing, I really like this dress. I feel like a woman, which is saying a lot, considering I'm more of a tomboy thanks to my brothers. Suddenly my phone starts ringing, and Jackson pulls it out of my purse to hand it to me. He checks the sender and wrinkles his nose, so I can imagine who it's from.

**From: Stiles**

_OMG LYDIA JUST ASKED ME TO WINTER FORMAL! Is that ok?_

I can't help but feel my heart sink as I realize what this means. Now I feel absolutely ridiculous. "What is it?" Jackson asks. I shake my head, handing my phone back to him after writing a quick message back assuring Stiles it was no problem. He reads the text message, and immediately his jaw tightens. "He's joking."

"She a friend of yours?" I ask, pointing to the zipper on the back of the dress. He drops my phone back in the purse and shakes his head.

"Ex."

He steps forward to provide some assistance, but a pair of hands pulls the zipper down enough so that I can reach it, and holds the dress in place so that it doesn't fall off. Holding the front to my chest, I turn to thank the person, and freeze. I'd expected Jean or another store employee, but standing in front of me is none other than Peter, a pleasant smile on his face as he looks me over. His perfectly healed face still unnerves me, even if I saw it only last night. He's quite handsome for a psychopath, but his eyes seem to stare right through me, as if he knows something that I don't.

Seeing as he knew about my not-biological father killing my mother, and that I'm a werewolf who's had her Instinct suppressed for more or less ten years, chances are that he does, in fact, know more than he's letting on.

"Stunning choice," he comments. "The color compliments you beautifully." He turns to Jackson, polite confusion on his face. "I'm sorry, you are...?"

"A friend," I cut in before Jackson can answer. "Jackson, this is my uncle, Peter. Peter, this is Jackson." They nod at each other and Peter turns back to me.

"I thought you were spending the day with Derek...?" he asks. I know he's really asking what the hell I'm doing out of the house, but I keep up the act.

"Derek was under house arrest with his uncle, and I needed to buy a dress for Winter Formal." I remember the text message and clear my throat. "Not that I'm going to need to anyway anymore, so I'll be heading home soon."

"Why not?" he asks. Surprisingly, his curiosity sounds genuine. I shrug, embarrassed.

"Don't have a date anymore, so I don't need a dress," I answer simply. Peter lets out a sigh and lays a hand on my shoulder.

"Young love doesn't always turn out the way we want it to," he says, steering me to the dressing room and away from Jackson. "It happens. But do buy the dress, I'm sure we can come up with some excuse for you to wear it."

I scratch the back of my head and chuckle. "Yeah, not necessarily a good idea, with the salary I get paid..."

"Oh, I'm sure that Jackson won't mind paying for it," he says, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "Especially when he's trying to convince you to talk me into giving him the bite."

I frown and look at Peter suspiciously. "Have you been following me?" I ask. He nods, unashamed.

"Yes, and I must say, I'm intrigued with your approach," he admits. "Do you really think Jackson would be a good addition to the pack?"

I scoff. "I'm sorry, but I'm not convinced yet," I answer honestly. "He has a sense of entitlement, and you can't have that in a pack. If I were looking to add to the pack, I'd be looking elsewhere."

"Like?"

I hesitate. As betas, we all play this game, where we build up a pack in our minds, and secretly, we all have a list. I know that's what Peter's asking, and I'm not sure I want to let him in on such a personal part of myself. I don't want him to add anyone else to this dysfunctional pack. But, he's analyzing me, and I'll be found out if I don't...

"Underdogs," I finally reply. "Outcasts. If you give them the Bite as a way out of circumstances beyond their control, they will feel indebted to you, and be more loyal than someone who's only mildly grateful, if grateful at all." I shrug again, self-conscious under his intense gaze. He squeezes my shoulder warmly and walks away then without saying another word.

As I turn to go into the dressing room, I notice Scott watching us from behind a mirrored column, a dumbfounded look on his face. I give him a warning look to not come over, and look back at Jackson. He's gawking at my back, and it's everything not to groan.

"Yeah, those scars are from the first time I was attacked," I state, pulling my hair to the side so he can see the full extent of the damage. "This was supposed to be my welcoming gift to the pack. Still sure you want the Bite?"

* * *

Turns out, Jackson did whip out his card to pay for the dress, and he didn't stop there. He went ahead and paid for a brown leather jacket to replace my ruined one- because, as he said, if he was going to be seen with me, I couldn't be wearing guy's clothing- and urged me to put it on. He didn't say it out loud, but I could tell that he really wanted me to cover up the small pieces of the scars that could be seen by my flimsy t-shirt. After purchasing the jacket, we went to the food court and hit the ice cream store, where, after much insistence on my part, I paid for two chocolate milkshakes, and we walked around talking. Yes, talking. We talked about lacrosse, I talked about guns, we both talked about cars, and then, finally, I talked about the scars and how I got them.

And still, a couple of hours later, Jackson is sure he wants the Bite.

Derek is driving his sports car through the woods while Jackson follows us in his Porsche. The destination is the Hale house, the single most creepiest spot in all of Beacon Hills, and perfect for what Derek has planned. I'm sitting in the passenger seat, staring out the window to avoid looking at Derek. I went to Peter's house after giving Jackson my number to text when he had an answer, and promptly at sundown I got his positive answer. So, Derek and I got changed, climbed into his car, and met up at the woods.

All done without speaking a single word to each other.

Sick of the silence, I turn on the radio to my favorite station. A familiar song is ending, and the radio broadcaster starts speaking.

_Well, listeners, I have to say we have one persistent young fella here, begging his girl for forgiveness. From Heath, the classic song, "Baby Come Back", for-_

With a growl, I turn off the radio and look out the window. "Can't even listen to the damn radio anymore," I mutter. The edge of Derek's mouth twitches, and I glare at him. "Don't."

"You'd think he'd get the hint," he comments anyways. I roll my eyes. "You need to take care of that situation."

"Yeah, and how do you propose I do that?" I ask, raising my brows expectantly. "There's too much going on right now with Peter and Scott and the hunters. I can't add a clingy ex-boyfriend to the mix."

"He said he was sorry," he reminds me. I catch on to the fact that he's teasing, and keep my eyes trained on the window.

"I'm not the coddling type," I tell the window grudgingly. "If he can't handle the truth, he can go whine elsewhere." I pause, a question hitting me suddenly. "Why do you even care?" I ask. "You can't stand Heath, and you can barely stand me, so why do you care if I ignore him or not?"

Unfortunately, the Hale house comes into sight at that moment, and we're forced to cut the conversation short. Not that Derek seems to mind; he practically flies out of the car to wait for Jackson to catch up. I take my time and leave my things in his car, only taking my gun and jacket with me. I stand next to Derek, rolling my shoulders with a smile.

"God, I love this jacket," I comment, leaning in and sniffing the leather. "It's so soft."

"Jackson buy that for you?" he asks tightly. I smile.

"Yeah, isn't it great?" I gush. "And it's _actual leather! _Like, not the imitation stuff I've been using forever." He wrinkles his nose.

"All his dad's money," he reminds me. I shrug.

"It's still a nice jacket," I murmur. He doesn't relax, and I grin, noticing something. "What, jealous Jackson hasn't bought you anything?" I tease. He gives me a look that assures me he is not, in fact, jealous Jackson didn't buy him anything. But, jealousy gives off a very distinct vibe, and I sense it loud and clear. I cock my head to the side as I start to realize what's really happening, and I can't help but smile when it hits me. "No... You're jealous because he bought _me_ something."

The headlights of Jackson's car come into sight, and Derek keeps his eyes trained on the car. But, I hear it; the slightest of blips in his heart rate. I gape at him, unable to completely believe it. "I'm right, aren't I? You're jealous!" I exclaim. "But why? You said I wasn't your type!"

"You're still thinking about that?" he says, irritation seeping into his voice. The Porsche skids to a halt in front of us, and he gives me a warning look. "Let's focus, hmm?"

Jackson turns off the car and steps out, closing the door behind him. I see in the darkness that his hand shakes ever so slightly, and if I see it, I know Derek sees it, too. Derek keeps his face as welcoming as he can, but I can tell it's an act. He can't stand the teenager. Jackson looks at me questioningly and I smile, actually a little happy to see him. Even if I'm not sure that I like him yet either, he's grown onto me today.

"So...?" he asks, trailing off. The unspoken question: _Are you killing me or biting me?_ The question isn't directed at Derek, but rather at me. I don't answer, but smile reassuringly. Derek moves to the side so that Jackson can walk past us, and he urges him forward towards the house.

The plan: spook him. Challenge him with how selfish he is. Depending on his reaction, we'll then go talk to the Alpha, which is something I'm certain only I'm considering. If it were up to Derek, we'd leave him in the forest to be finished off for threatening Scott. Either way, we're not killing him, and we're not biting him, either. We're eliminating the threat.

Jackson pauses on the porch, and I stay at the bottom of the stairs behind him and Derek. This isn't my show, but even so, Jackson looks back at me. "What's in here?" he asks. There's a light tremble in my voice, and it's everything for me to not step forward and comfort him. I can't help it: I'm maternal.

"That's up to you," I answer honestly. It really is: depending on how he reacts to Derek, it can either go very badly, or it can go fine. Not very reassured, it takes Derek guiding him forward to get him through the door. I follow them inside and close the door behind us, stepping back so I'm out of the way.

The inside of the Hale residence really is haunting. The walls, floors and ceiling are all charred, and as I run my hand along one of the walls, my palm comes away dark with ash. Not really wanting to take part in spooking Jackson, I wander into what I assume used to be the living room and look around. The room seems strangely familiar, and with a frown, I walk further inside, pulling off my jacket as I go. Distantly I can hear the shrieks of children playing, and the chatter of adults gossiping among themselves. The sounds resemble the ones that used to ring through my own home, so I assume the large house is playing tricks on me and shake it off.

But there's something about this place that I can't shake. Guilt. It's oozing out of the walls with the pain and the anger, two things that are easily explained. But where is the guilt coming from? The fire was a tragedy that was most likely done at the hands of hunters, but why would a hunter feel guilty? It doesn't make sense. There's something I don't know about yet.

The Instinct sometimes shows things that aren't easily explained. I look around, searching for some sort of hint to help me figure it out. There are claw marks on the walls; Derek? A wall is toppled over as if something was thrown through it, and I remember Derek telling me that he and Scott got into a fight a while ago. But some claw marks on the wall look older... Could Derek be the one feeling guilty?

Why would Derek feel guilty about the fire?

The sound of gunshots breaks me out of my trance. I rush back into the foyer where I left Derek and Jackson, only to find that Scott's here now, too. With a bullet in his side. Gun shots are still firing, but running on Instinct, I leap forward, wrapping my arms around Scott and knocking him to the ground. We roll several feet until we hit the opposite wall, and even though we're lying low, I hold him down and lift my head, scanning the area. Jackson isn't anywhere to be seen, but Derek is huddled by the front door, arms covering his head. He spots me and Scott, his eyes immediately flying to Scott's bullet wound.

"Where's Jackson?" I yell over the gunshots. Nobody but hunters would be firing with machine guns at the Hale house, and while that's a danger in itself, if they get Jackson, they'll find out about Scott being a werewolf and me being a part of the pack.

"He ran!" Derek yells back. He motions at Scott, then pulls his hand back as a bullet zings through the wood next to him. "Get him out of here!"

"What about you?" I demand. He doesn't answer, but he's watching the door, waiting for an opening. No. He can't. "No! You can't!"

"Conner, get him out of here!" Derek repeats, more adamantly this time. Unable to take it any more, I let the anger overtake me and roar, baring my teeth and flashing my blue wolf eyes at him. The shooting stops momentarily, as does his breathing as he takes in my appearance. I haven't completely shifted, but the eyes and canines are enough to let him in on the truth: I'm a wolf, too.

The two seconds of silence seem to drag on forever. Several emotions cross his face, ranging from confusion to betrayal to anger, but eventually he settles on determination. There are two choices here: he can go out the front door and be either killed or captured by hunters, giving Scott and me time to run, or we can run, with the risk of having the hunters follow and capture all of us. Just when I think I have him convinced to run with me, he gets to his feet and wrenches open the door, stepping out and slamming it closed behind him. The gunfire commences again, followed almost simultaneously by his roars of pain.

He's protecting us.

A large, human part of me wants to run after him and take out the hunters, but that same side recognizes that we're terribly outnumbered, and that Scott needs medical attention. The bullets could easily be loaded with wolfsbane, and he's not strong enough to survive a shot from one for too long. Biting back my own emotions, I think about my pack, and throw Scott over my shoulders in a fireman's hold. He's heavy, but not so heavy that I can't run with him. The back door gives way to my shoulder easily enough, and fueled on by Derek's screams I run off into the woods as fast as my legs can carry me.

I hardly even notice the dull pain of a bullet lodged into my side as I go.

* * *

Roy watched with detached eyes as Kate and the other hunters dragged Derek into the Hale house basement, hands and ankles bound tightly with wires. It had been easy enough to take the wolf out, but there was something off about the whole situation. He didn't know the wolf personally, but Leni had taught him most of what he knew about wolves and their pack mentality. If Derek had been by himself in the house, he simply would have run like the last time Kate ambushed him. But he'd walked right into the line of fire, almost as if he was a distraction.

Without saying anything to Kate, he wandered around the house, searching for a hint as to what or whom Derek was protecting. They knew there was at least one other beta that Derek was teaming up with, a smaller or younger wolf. He found the clue in the living room, and cursed quietly. On the floor, thrown to the side as if discarded in a moment of panic, was a brown leather jacket. Even without smelling it, it screamed Conner. Why couldn't she just lay low? He grabbed the jacket and hid it in the fireplace to pick up later on. Even in the moment of frustration, he noticed how the jacket resembled his. His phone started to vibrate, and without looking at the caller ID, he answered. "Roy speaking."

"Roy, it's Deaton. I have a bit of a situation."

He closed his eyes and took a calming breath. Alan Deaton, town veterinarian, and an old friend of Leni's. There was only one reason he'd be calling him. "Is she hurt?" he asked, dreading the worst.

"Don't worry, she's safe," he assured him, though there was little intended comfort in his voice. "I found her in the woods, and convinced her I knew her mother. Though, I must say that I've noticed something disturbing." Roy looked around to make sure that nobody saw him, then stepped outside. Once he'd put a safe distance between himself and the house, he cleared his throat and asked the vet to continue. "The bind on her werewolf side has been broken."

"The Alpha broke it," Roy explained quietly. He was sure nobody was listening, but the subject was in regards to one of the biggest secrets he'd ever kept. "Leni used to warn about an Alpha's influence, and that's why we made sure her family left her here, where no Alpha's would look for her. Most of the wolves left after what happened to Leni and the Hale family."

"And she seemed unaffected by a wolfsbane bullet to her hip."

"She's been working with wolfsbane bullets ever since her family left. I believe she's developed an immunity of sorts."

"Even so, I'm concerned. Leni bound her for a reason," he reminded the hunter gravely. Roy sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "And now, she's chosen a pack. You know what needs to be done."

"I can't," he whispered, leaning back against a tree. "Alan, she's not only my daughter. She's Leni's. I need time." He heard Deaton let out a breath, and knew the man was about as tortured as he was about the situation.

"God, she couldn't be more like you two," Deaton muttered. "Spitting image, carrying around a gun and everything." Roy let out a humorless laugh and shook his head.

"Daddy's little girl, huh?"

Deaton barked a laugh, and he could picture his old friend shaking his head and rubbing his forehead. "Roy, I can't begin to describe how much that worries me."

* * *

**Post-Chapter Note:**

**Soooo...? Opinions :D?**


	11. Just A Taste

**Author's Note:**

**So, it turns out Mondays, it's difficult _not _to think about Teen Wolf, so I posted up this chapter quickly. Let's see if tonight's episode and reviews push me to get the next chapter out tomorrow!**

**And BTW, my heart almost melted when one of my beloved readers used the word "Donner"... Conner and Derek are officially a ship!**

* * *

_It's dark and cold, but my blood runs hot under my skin as my heart pounds loudly in my ears. I can't move, my arms bound somewhere above my head in a way that I can hardly feel them. My eyelids are heavy, but I manage to lift my head an inch or two before pain hits me and look up. The room I'm in has an artificial light giving the dank area an orange glow, but the warm color is anything but comforting, and I can hardly see. Two familiar female figures approach, and instinctively I roll back my lips, bare my fangs and-_

"Coffee?"

Dr. Deaton's voice snaps me back to reality and I meet the vet's dark eyes above me. He's holding out a paper cup with steam lightly wafting out of it, and the smell of fresh coffee hits me. I gratefully accept the drink and wince, tilting my head around carefully. I fell asleep in a plastic chair a while before, and my back and shoulders are stiff from being in the same position for so long. In a feeble hope, I check my cell phone for any missed calls. It's about five o'clock in the morning, so the sun hasn't even risen yet, and everything on the phone is from the night before. There's a missed call from Roy, one from Jackson, one from Stiles, and two from a number I don't recognize, as well as voice mails from everyone. Bracing myself, I dial the number 1 on the keypad and listen to the voice mails as Dr. Deaton steps out of the room again.

_Conner. This is Roy. Call me for a status report when you leave Deaton's._

I smile a half-smile at my biological father's concern. Dr. Deaton told me he'd spoken to him before I'd passed out watching Scott. As I listen, my gaze drifts to said beta, still unconscious on the examination table. His bullet wound has gauze over it and has bled out slightly, but I saw Deaton take care of his wounds like a pro, so I'm not worried. My wound healed on its own, and the impressively sized bullet is in my pocket as a souvenir. The next message starts to play, and I take a sip of my coffee.

_Okay, I don't know what the hell happened last night, but you owe me an explanation. We had a deal, and I held up my end._

I hadn't spoken a word to the kid on the phone, but the tone couldn't have belonged to anyone but Jackson. Which reminds me, I need to find him later and make sure he's alright. The coffee is perfect, and I gratefully continue to sip at the drink.

_Okay, Conner, Scott didn't call me back last night. Did something happen?_

Yes, Stiles, we got shot at by hunters, but no worries: Scott will be in first period on time. The last message is from a woman whose voice I don't recognize, so I listen carefully.

_Hello Conner. My name's Kate Argent, and I'm a friend of Roy Blackbird's. _

My skin bristles and I momentarily stop breathing, hanging on the woman's every word. This is the hunter who organized the Hale house fire, the woman Peter most wants dead.

_Now, we haven't been formally introduced, but I'm a hunter and Roy tells me you're aware of the little wolf problem in Beacon Hills, so I won't bother speaking in code. I just gave my niece, Allison, a bit of a reality check in regards to werewolves, and she's not handling it so well. I was thinking that maybe the two of you could talk, so she could have a friend in the business. _

She pauses, and I hear something like chains rattling.

_And also, I thought it would be nice to spend some time together, just girls. Roy's a... close friend of mine, and he's told me a lot about you. I'll be waiting._

Immediately I feel suspicious, and wonder if she's figured me out. It wouldn't surprise me if she was the one in charge of the attack on the Hale house last night, but I wasn't followed when I escaped. The only possibility would have to be that Derek said something, but that's a thought I won't even dare to entertain. He wouldn't rat Scott or me out. Hell, he walked straight into the line of fire for us, why would he hand me over to the hunters? I can only assume that she's maybe telling the truth, and that Roy maybe has said good things about me. And maybe Allison really is freaking out. I honestly wouldn't know how that feels: werewolves has been the norm for me for as long as I can remember.

Taking one last look at Scott, I get to my feet carefully, testing out my sore muscles. Once I'm standing the pain disappears, and I down the rest of the coffee at once. Deaton comes back into the examination room, assessing my physical state even as he smiles. I know I must look a wreck with my bloodstained t-shirt and dirt-covered jeans, but he doesn't seem at all disturbed by my appearance, only concerned with my wellbeing. Ha, I _snarled _at him when he approached Scott and me in the woods, and he didn't even flinch! The guy's got a backbone, and for that, I respect him already.

"Leaving so soon?" he prompts. I nod, and look around for my jacket so I can leave.

"I have some business to take care of if I want this one to last the week," I confirm, jutting my thumb at Scott. I don't see my jacket, and decide I must have dropped it on my way over here or something. I'll have to backtrack later and find it. It's a nice jacket.

Deaton nods, and follows me out of the examination room, closing the door behind us. "Anything I can help with?"

I lift the counter and cross into the waiting room, smiling warmly at the vet. "I have to go pacify an Alpha, find my missing pack mate who may or may not be dead, and keep up the act of the harmless daughter of a hunter for the Argents," I answer, letting out a heavy breath. "You've done more than enough giving us someplace safe to stay for the night, and for that, I am incredibly grateful." I back up to the door and wave. "Tell Scott to call me when he wakes up?"

* * *

"I already told you, I can't take her to the formal!"

The other members of the lacrosse team had already filtered out of the boy's locker room when Scott and Stiles cornered Jackson with their request. Scott couldn't go to the formal, so he needed Jackson to go in his place and watch Allison to make sure the Alpha didn't attack her. Scott had done as Conner asked and called shortly after waking up. She let him know that the Alpha was still adamant about convincing Scott to join him and would go after Allison, and that he was also trying to track down Derek, but that if she had any more news, she would text Stiles or him.

Unfortunately, Jackson wasn't cooperating. "What do you mean, you can't take her?" Scott exclaimed exasperatedly. "You're not going with Lydia, so-?"

"I already have a date, dim wit," Jackson cut off, glaring at the werewolf. He was obviously still sore about the scare he'd had the night before. Scott scoffed, not believing him, and Jackson narrowed his eyes. "Go ahead, laugh it up, I'm still not taking your precious ex-girlfriend."

"Just cancel the girl you're going with, and take Allison!" Stiles suggested. "Problem solved!"

"I can't," Jackson repeated, turning on Stiles. "See, you had to go and ditch her first, so I'm pretty sure she'll be pissed if I back out, too. Last thing I want is the Alpha-whatever on my case."

Stiles frowned, putting the pieces together. "Wait, you're taking Conner?" he clarified, raising his brows. Jackson gave him a look, daring him to question it, and Stiles held up his hands in defense. "Yeah, no, I believe you. It's just, you're not really..." He trailed off, searching for the right words. "... Her type."

Jackson let out a laugh, shaking his head. "Stalinsky, when are you going to realize?" he asked, smirking. "I'm everybody's type."

Stiles pretended to gag as Scott took a turn trying to reason with Jackson. "But why would you take Conner to formal?" Scott asked, still not understanding. "She's not even in high school, and she's looking for Derek."

"Well, I'll have you know I'd already bought her the dress when Stalinsky here went and sent her the message that he was going with Lydia instead," Jackson answered, eyes fixed on Stiles as the teen's face blanked. "Yeah, good job, bro."

"But why?" Scott pressed. "You could ask _anybody_-!"

"She's going to do what you couldn't," Jackson interrupted, finally stepping back to leave. "If I help her out, she'll convince the Alpha to get me the Bite." He shrugged, holding up his hands. "Good luck."

* * *

There's this feeling we sometimes get when somebody's intruding in our territory.

As I'm washing my hair, I get that feeling. I ignore it and continue to lather the shampoo into my scalp, closing my eyes and relaxing into the feeling. The shower blocks out any and all noise outside, and considering the person standing outside my door is most likely Peter, I'm not in any hurry to end my shower. He can wait until I've finished. I had to walk home from the vet's office because my truck's still at Peter's place, though luckily Jackson picked me up halfway there and drove me home after getting my message.

I'd almost forgotten that he wanted to take me to the formal, but he'd made sure to remind me. In spite of what happened last night, he wasn't backing out of wanting the Bite, and quite honestly, he was starting to convince me of the idea, too. Maybe Instinct would push him to get more of a pack mentality? Or maybe I was fatally optimistic, and didn't want to break the news to him that Derek and Peter would most likely eat him alive before welcoming him into our pack. Well, except for Peter, who wasn't quite as selective as Derek could be. He'd make Jackson eat all of the hunters first, and then get rid of him at the first sign of disrespect.

I walk out of the shower a couple of minutes later wrapped in a towel and scan the apartment. Whoever wants to see me hasn't gone to the trouble of breaking in and is waiting outside, which leads me to believe the person might be someone other than Peter. Maybe another one of the hunters keeping an eye on me?

I get dressed in a pair of dark jeans, a low-cut red tank top and a pair of ankle boots to give me a little more height. Today I'm going to need that height for confidence. I've already taken care of Jackson, but I still need to talk to Peter, and start listening around for Derek. Maybe I'll tell one of the hunters that I'm Roy's daughter to make them trust me. I take my time loading my gun and storing two extra clips in an ankle brace which I stick in my purse for later. It's enough that I keep my gun in my hip holster, I can't go around looking like I'm about to go hunting all the time. I grab my cellphone and keys, and finally open the front door.

A woman is leaning against the wall outside my apartment, arms crossed and a light smirk on her face. She's tall, but then again that could be due to the high-heeled boots she's wearing, and she has long light brown hair with soft curls. She straightens up when I step out, and holds out her hand with a smile.

"Kate Argent," she introduces herself. My heart leaps into my throat as I realize this is the main target Peter wants to kill, and I feign pleasant surprise, shaking her hand firmly.

"Conner Fitz," I answer. "Though it seems like Roy's told you about me already."

She laughs and throws her head back. "Honey, that man won't shut up about how proud he is of his little girl," she assures me. When my eyes widen, she winks. "Yeah, he told me he dropped the Daddy Bomb on you."

"Yeah, still kinda processing," I say nervously, looking away. That's a natural reaction, right? More natural than running away from her, I think. Or shooting her. Whichever I want to do first. I clear my throat and look back at her, smiling. "So, what can I do for you? I got your message about your... niece?"

"Allison," she confirms, and gestures for me to start walking down the hall next to her. "I hear you two have some friends in common- Jackson, Scott and Stiles?" I nod, and she continues. "Well, I told her about the werewolves, and it isn't going too well so far. She's avoiding me, so I was hoping you could talk to her, see how she's handling it."

"Uh, sure," I reluctantly agree. "Though, honestly, I'm not sure how much help I can be."

Kate shrugs, but gives me a knowing smile. "I'm sure you'll figure something out." I can't keep her eyes, and look away. "Otherwise, I wanted to welcome you to Beacon Hills. I hope you don't mind me saying, but Roy told me about you and Derek Hale."

I stop breathing and look up at her, unable to stop the alarm from showing on my face. She's come alone to kill me? She laughs, leading me to wonder if this woman has mental problems. "Hey, I think it's genius!" Now I'm really, really confused, but she doesn't keep me in the dark for long. "I mean, sure, I already did it a couple of years ago, but hey, you're just starting out. Seducing the werewolf to get to the rest of the pack is a great trick to perfect early on."

The relief that courses through me has about the physical force of a small tidal wave. I pretend that I'm embarrassed and run a hand through my curling hair nervously, masking the scare I just had. "Yeah, I'm surprised Roy told you about that," I mutter.

"Oh, he had to," she says, quickly defending the fellow hunter. "I mean, after the attack, you started spending time with Derek, and we thought you were one of them. Then Roy explained what the two of you are doing, and I must say, I'm impressed." She pats my shoulder encouragingly, then leaves her arm loosely hanging over my shoulders like we're old friends. "So, do you have any leads?"

I shake my head, feigning disappointment. "Not as to who the Alpha is," I lie smoothly. "I mean, I started investigating the Alpha's victims, and other than me, everyone can be connected to the Hale fire." I shrug. "So, it can be any Alpha close to the Hale family, looking for revenge, maybe, which is pretty much every werewolf in California or New York. But Derek doesn't know anything yet, and he's been missing since yesterday. Have you guys seen him?"

I look up at her, and feel my stomach sink at the wide grin on her face. Even knowing the Alpha wants to kill her specifically, she can only grin like a Cheshire cat. She pulls me in closer to her side as we approach a large SUV, and stops in front of it. Grabbing both of my shoulders, she holds me at arm's length in front of her, sizing me up. She seems to be debating something, and finally, with a sigh, reaches a decision.

"Okay Conner, your dad's most likely going to kill me later, but I'm going to show you something," she says, smiling as if we're sharing a secret. "I've only shown Allison, so this will stay between us, alright? Girls only." I nod, trying to keep my face as blank as possible. Convinced, she lets me go and unlocks the SUV, motioning for me to get inside. "Come on. I'll drive."

* * *

My hands shake as I pull the dress on, sliding it up my legs until it's high enough. Allison pulls the zipper up behind me, then helps twist it into place. She smiles a forced smile at me through the mirror, and I smile sympathetically back at her. She's already dressed and her hair is done, but she's helping me out. Kate and I had picked her up at the mall, then brought her back to the house to get ready for the dance. I convinced Jackson to take the both of us when I found out she didn't have a date or a friend to latch onto, which gave me the perfect opportunity to talk to her in private.

Which, honestly, was the last thing I wanted to do after Kate showed me what she wanted to.

Even so, as I watched her curl her hair, I let her know who I am. Or, at least, who I'm pretending to be, which is a hunter's daughter who's known about werewolves since her mother told her about the Alpha that killed her father. Which is true; I just left out the part about the Alpha turning my mother and her aunt. I explained the issue with the Alpha and told her about the times he'd attacked me, but then started to tell her the different ways I'd found to protect myself. Simple things: never going out alone at night, locking the doors, always letting someone know where I was, carrying a gun at all times... Okay, the last part I'd admitted was a bit of an overkill, but I defended myself with the fact that it saved my life the night of the hospital.

Surprisingly, she seemed slightly reassured. She showed me the stun gun her aunt had given her, and confided that she was scared. I pretended she was a newly turned beta and reassured her that it was normal, but that she was strong, and would get used to the idea in time. I offered to help her train, and she enthusiastically accepted.

By the time she finished with her hair and makeup, I decided that I really liked her.

When she motions for me to sit in the chair so she can do my hair and makeup for me, I decide that I may just love this girl. I wouldn't know where to start on my own (Susan was the one to do my hair for the first and only dance I attended), but she seems to have a clear idea as she separates my hair into bunches and gets to work doing my makeup. She puts light smoky eyes on me and clear lip gloss on my lips, and then starts on my hair.

We stay silent at first, but after a while a conflicted look crosses her face, and she blurts it out. "What do you think about Derek Hale?" she asks. She's looking between my hair and my eyes in the mirror, and for a moment, I wonder if she notices how my heart clenches in my chest. "Aunt Kate showed you where she has him, right?"

I take a steadying breath and nod minutely. "Do you think that's... okay?" she asks. I involuntarily tighten my jaw before answering.

"No. He didn't kill anybody."

"So... What Aunt Kate says about them just being animals...?"

I close my eyes momentarily and smile to keep from roaring. "Even animals have rights," I remind her, reaching into that dark place inside me for a response. "What's being done in that room is... unnecessary."

"But Kate said..." she trails off, not sure if she should say what she wants to. I give her an encouraging look, and she takes a deep breath. "She said you're like her."

I chuckle humorlessly, and feel the shadow cover my eyes. "I can understand why she'd tell you that..."

* * *

**Several Hours Earlier:**

The smell of the Hale house is becoming strangely comforting and familiar, but it does anything except calm me as I follow Kate into the underground hallway. Orange light illuminate the way as we walk down the narrow passage until we reach a large steel door. We must be going to a cellar or a basement, and while there isn't any visible indication that I should feel worried, I find I can hardly breathe. This place is giving me a sense of deja vu, and the rising suspicion I have is making me wish I could shift into my still unfamiliar wolf form, just in case.

Two men stand guard at the door, and greet Kate with nods. She stops in front of the door, hand resting on the lever locking it as she smiles conspiratorially at me, ignoring the two men. "Remember, not a word to your father, okay?" she reminds me. I nod, taking a deep breath. Now the excitement starts to bubble to the surface in her expression, and with hardly any effort, she lifts the lever and pushes open the door. With trepidation I follow her inside at a safe distance, looking around the large, dark room.

The dream I had in the vet's office starts to come back to me as I look around, noticing little details that I saw in the dream. The lights are off, but Kate walks over to a switch to take care of that. I notice a large fence pushed up against the wall with something chained to it, and I feel my heart practically stop when a pair of blue eyes glow in the darkness.

"Derek?" I choke out.

The room immediately floods with light as Kate turns on a large lamp, aiming it directly at Derek. I stare with barely masked horror as I assess the situation he's in. His wrists are shackled above his head and chained to the fence, and attached to his bare side is a large patch connected to many wires. The wires lead to a machine, and it only takes a second to put two and two together to determine what the device does. She's been keeping him weak and torturing him with electrical shocks. That's why he hasn't been able to break free. Some blood is on his face, but not much, meaning there's been a struggle and his healing factor still works. I give thanks for that little blessing, but can't speak as I wonder at what he's been going through for the past day.

"Conner!" Derek yells, pulling against the chains holding him. "Get out of here!"

As Kate comes to my side, I'm paralyzed and he roars, baring his canines threateningly. Kate only chuckles and drapes her arm over my shoulders affectionately. "Isn't he just delicious?" she comments. When he roars again, she rolls her eyes. "Oh come on, Derek! I'm not doing anything to your little girlfriend." She cocks her head to the side and looks at me questioningly. "Want to play with him?"

Even with his wolf form completely exposed, I can see that he's confused as he looks between us, silently demanding that I explain. Kate shakes me softly, breaking me out of my trance. "You okay, sweetheart?" she asks teasingly. I nod mutely, and she leads me to the machine. "Come on, I'll show you how it's done."

"Conner, what is this?" Derek asks, staring at me. I can't look at him as Kate starts to explain what the dials on the machine do, and pay attention to what she's saying. "Conner!" Once Kate's done, she steps back and crosses her arms, looking at me expectantly.

"Go ahead," she encourages, looking up at Derek with a smirk. "Show him who's boss."

For a moment I can't move or speak. Derek's calling my name, and I hear the betrayal sneaking into his voice, but I can't respond as I evaluate the situation. Two fully trained hunters outside the door, armed, and one undiagnosed sociopath hunter with far too much experience killing wolves, and an arsenal of weapons designed to specifically hurt werewolves within her reach, while I only have a pistol with one clip. Taking Kate out would be a challenge, but it's manageable; to do it without the other hunters outside noticing, on the other hand, is impossible with the door open, and even if I do manage that feat, I can't take two hunters on by myself, and I don't have time to get Derek loose before they start shooting.

And now Kate's looking at me, doubt clear on her face. "Hesitation?" she asks, raising a brow. "Really? Come on. Roy's daughter should have more backbone than that."

"...Roy's daughter?" Derek repeats in a growl. Slowly I look up at him, meeting his glowing blue eyes. Now the betrayal is clear on his face, and it feels like a knife stabbing into my stomach. Kate laughs, much too amused by Derek's pain. "A _hunter?_ You're one of _them?_!"

"Oh come on Derek, give the girl a break," Kate says teasingly as Derek tears his gaze away from mine in disgust. "Isn't the phrase, 'Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice...'?"

He roars and I see her take a step forward, a malicious grin on her face as she raises her hand. Before she can touch him, I turn the large dial on the machine, and watch with a tight jaw as the electricity courses through him. I don't think I'll be able to control myself if I see her lay a hand on him to harm him. He grits his teeth and his body arches, his wolf aspect pushed away by the torture. I don't let it last more than a second or two before I turn it off, masking the pain with cold indifference.

Kate looks at me with raised brows. "That's a start," she admits, nodding in approval. Derek's hanging tiredly from the chains, head dropped facing the floor. Not wanting to be pushed to electrocute him again, I step away from the machine and move next to her.

"Have you gotten anything out of him?" I ask, though I know the answer. He's stronger than any of us. She sighs and wanders over to the table where the machine is, disappointment clear in her voice.

"Not a peep," she admits. "Though I have gotten a scream or two."

The innuendo is clear in her voice, but I push down the anger and step towards Derek. He doesn't look up, but his shoulders tense and he balls his fists. I motion for Kate to toss me a rag from the table, and once I catch it, I reach forward, cupping Derek's chin. He doesn't fight me as I turn his face, then wipe the blood off. There are flecks of already dried blood, but some of it looks fresh. "That's better," I murmur. I can't help but clean the rest of his face covered with sweat and dust, providing even this tiny measure of comfort. He glares murderously at me, making it clear that if his hands weren't bound, they'd be around my neck.

"Don't touch me," he warns, his voice barely above a whisper. Feeling Kate watching me like a hawk, I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Derek walked into gunfire for me. Acting is the least I can do. I reach to a dark, sadistic side of myself, and try to mirror what Kate would do. When I open my eyes, I smirk and cock my head to the side.

"You mean like this?"

I trail my fingers over his cheek and down his neck, noticing how the muscles there immediately bunch up. His eyes glow blue and his fangs start to extend, but I ignore it and run my hand languidly down his chest. "Oh come on Derek," I whisper teasingly, leaning up so our faces are close. "Just yesterday, weren't you asking me to stay with you?" He bares his teeth warningly, and in response I reach up, then rake my nails down his abdomen. "What were you hoping to do, Derek...?"

"Did you get to sleep with him?" Kate asks. Still staring into his hate-filled eyes, I shake my head slowly. "Too bad. He's most likely even better now than when I had my chance."

I shrug lazily. "He's a pretty good kisser," I admit truthfully. She nods in agreement.

"Too bad you can't have a last taste."

I look down to see what's holding his feet, and see he's standing on a platform with his ankles bound with wire. I stand up on the platform, lifting myself to his level and using the fence behind him for support. He growls warningly, but leans back against the fence, allowing me to stand in front of him. My body presses completely against his and I lean up, my lips barely reaching his jaw. My heart is beating erratically from the proximity mixed with the fear, but while he's tense, he makes no move to attack or push me away. Holding onto his shoulders for support, I lean my head back and meet his eyes.

"Who says I can't?"

I grab onto the back of his head and pull him down, crashing my lips against his. He resists at first, but when I run my tongue along his bottom lip they part, and he possesses my mouth. Hunger fills me as he fights for dominance, moving his lips roughly against mine and lowering his head, deepening the kiss. I groan involuntarily and press myself against him, momentarily forgetting the circumstances. He's being rough and angry, as if he's trying to punish me, but it's the total opposite. He feels perfect, a natural Alpha.

Kate lets out a low whistle, however, and that brings both of us back to earth. I wrench my lips away and jump back just as he roars, snapping his teeth at me. Kate immediately cranks up the electricity and he yells in pain, shrinking into himself. She lets the electricity run longer than I did, so when she shuts it off, he collapses, chest heaving and skin bright with sweat.

"That was a close one," Kate informs me, but she's grinning with pride. I force a laugh and touch my lips, sticking out my tongue to taste them. They taste like him, and I hate that I can't just wrench him off the fence and run. "Satisfied?" she asks. I shake my head, and answer with complete honesty.

"Not nearly."

Her arm is around me in a second, pulling me into a one-armed hug. "A woman after my own heart!" she exclaims excitedly. "I can't believe Roy didn't introduce us sooner." She takes a look at her watch, and sighs with disappointment. "Come on, we've gotta pick up the niece at the mall." She pats Derek's chest lightly, then starts for the door. "Say goodbye to the wolf, honey."

"Can I play with him later?" I ask, looking over my shoulder. "I'll have some steam to blow off after dealing with Jackson all night." She smirks and nods, giving the guards the okay to let me come back. I turn back to Derek and lay my hand flat against his chest, right above where his heart is. He doesn't even fight me when I move forward, pressing a soft kiss to his lower abdomen.

"Wait for me," I breathe in a whisper. "I'll be back." I don't look at his face as I turn around and follow Kate, turning off the lights on my way out. I can only pray that he understands, and is able to survive until I come back.

* * *

**Present:**

I look at Allison through the mirror and smile. "You'll start to see how different we are soon enough," I assure her. "I'm not as cruel." She nods, reassured by my answer, and continues to fix my hair. My phone vibrates on the vanity and I reach forward, careful not to move too much and ruin Allison's work. The number is unknown, and already suspecting who it is, I quickly answer. "Hello?"

"I take it you're having fun with Allison."

Peter. I mask my nerves at the idea that he was watching me, and smile pleasantly. "Yeah, Allison's doing my hair. We're going to the formal in an hour," I say casually. "What are you going to be up to?"

"I'll be there," he confirms. "Have your heard from Derek?"

I hesitate before speaking, but when I do, my voice is even. "I think I saw Kate, Allison's aunt, talking with him earlier," I answer. He knows I don't mean they were talking.

"Where?"

"I don't know yet," I lie. "But I already have a ride to get there, so don't worry."

"Will you need help?" he asks.

"No, it'll be just the three of us," I say, winking at Allison.

"Three hunters?"

"I'm hoping only two," I admit. "I really don't want to be out too late."

"I need him back, Conner," he says tightly.

"I know, I won't forget, I promise," I assure him.

"Good." He lets out a breath, then clears his throat. "How would you feel about the pack finishing off Kate tonight?"

"Tonight's good," I answer calmly, not wanting to raise suspicion with Allison. "Just us?"

"We'll go with or without Scott," he states, and I can hear in his voice that he's antsy to kill already. I can't blame him. After seeing what she did to Derek, I'm dying to get my hands on the hunter, too. "But we need Derek. So, I'll try on my end, and you try on yours to get him back. The sooner, the better." And with that, he hangs up the phone.

"Alright, sounds good," I tell the silent phone. "See you later." I pretend to end the call, then place the phone face down on the vanity. "Sorry about that. My uncle just wanted me to remember it's family night."

"Oh, that's nice," she says happily. Clearly, she hasn't heard about my real family situation. "Okay, all done."

I look up with surprise, and can't stop the smile from spreading across my face. She's lightly curled all of my hair, not bothering with clips or any adornment other than the curls because it looks beautiful as is. She motions for me to stay where I am, then picks up a black box from the bed with a purple bow tied on it. "Speaking of your uncle, he gave me this for you while I was in the mall."

I frown in confusion as she hands me a note that came with it, and unties the bow. The card is small, a simple folded square of card stock with a short sentence written on it. Allison pulls the contents out of the thin box, gasping lightly.

_Found them in the woods that night._

_-Peter_

Allison drops a string of small pearls around my neck and fastens them delicately. I stare with wide eyes at the pearls I had always thought my mother had lost the night of the accident, and feel tears well up. They used to be my grandmother's, and Peter found them in the woods. My mother's car was found wrapped around a lamppost, and her body burned to an unrecognizable degree in the driver's seat. That lamppost had been by a field, and not close at all to any forests.

Which confirms what I've been trying to avoid accepting this whole time.

My father, the man who raised me, killed her.

A tear slips out unbidden, and Allison gives me a concerned look. I smile as I wipe the tear away, shaking my head. "I'm fine," I lie. "Just... touched."

She hugs me in comfort, smiling encouragingly. "Come on. Jackson's here," she says, rubbing my arms. "Are you ready?"

I stand up, looking at myself in the mirror to pull myself together. My golden eyes look back at me steadily, as if they're telling me to be strong. Peter gave me these pearls to give me answers, and most likely to give me that taste, to want vengeance. And it's worked, partially: I want to kill. But I want to kill him, too, for making me feel what Derek is going to feel when he finds out that his sister's death wasn't an accident. The pearls glint up at me, and touching them softly, I nod.

"I'm ready."

Tonight, heads are going to roll.

* * *

**Next chapter, we have the formal, death, and Conner will exact some revenge :]**

**Opinions?**

**And enjoy the episode tonight!**


	12. Three Words

**Author's Note:**

**Okay, so I know I wanted to update last week, but circumstances made that very difficult (moving, class registration, new college orientation, etc.)... So, in apology, here is a very long, VERY eventful chapter :D Thank you all soooo much for your continual support, this experience this summer has been so fun and rewarding! I hope you all are enjoying the summer and the final episodes of the second season, and that you like this chapter :D!**

* * *

As I sit on the bleachers, I'm starting to remember the things I missed about high school, as far and in between as they were.

Graduating early was a decision I was forced to make when my family left. I couldn't survive for very long only on my college fund, and all available jobs were during school hours. So, I graduated early, signed up for college, and used the money from my college fund and my mother's life insurance to pay for classes instead while I used my paycheck for living expenses. It all evened out pretty nicely, but the catch was that I miss out on these wonderfully awkward events.

Allison has convinced Jackson to dance with her, and I watch them, not sure how I feel about the two of them together. I was surprised Scott didn't ask Allison to Formal. Taking her may have been what they needed to fix things. Apparently Scott's too chicken. Jackson danced with me earlier, and though I know he's only being nice because he wants the Bite, I can appreciate the effort all the same.

Lord knows I need something to calm me down with just the thought of what's happening to Derek across town. Somebody approaches my left, and I don't need to look up to know it's Peter. He sits down next to me with a sigh, looking out over the students. "So, any news for me?" he asks conversationally. Still watching Allison and Jackson awkwardly dancing, I shake my head.

"Waiting for the right moment to get Derek back," I answer.

"And when would a right moment be...?"

I look at my watch. "Ten minutes, tops," I conclude. "The hunters will be trading off shifts. Jackson will lend me his car and then I'll drive over, get him free, and depending on how much damage there is, I might have to take him to the house. Either way, if you convince Scott, meet me at the Hale house in two hours, and we'll stake out the house until Kate gets back to torture him."

"I drove your truck over here," he comments. "You could take her." He watches me, and caught in my own trap, I smile sheepishly.

"Alright, fine, I really, really want to drive the Porsche," I admit. He chuckles, shaking his head.

"That Jackson is really trying to convince you, isn't he?" he comments. I nod in agreement, and he leans closer. "Are you convinced?"

I consider the question, and let out a sigh. "I think that maybe he can be taught," I reply slowly. "He has deep-rooted issues that make him a royal pain in the ass sometimes, but if you can get past that..." I shake my head. "Maybe being part of a pack will be what he needs to change. Would you ever consider giving him the bite?"

When I look at him, his brows are raised high and he runs a hand through his hair. "Your mother wasn't lying when she said you were maternal," he admits. At my questioning frown, he explains. "I crossed paths with her a couple of times after you were born. Even then, she could tell how you were going to turn out." He looks at his watch then holds out his hand.

"Come on, Conner," he says, standing up. On cue, a slow song starts to play, breaking up the tight mass of flailing teenagers. The couples meet up in shy embraces, and the single students start to drift to the sidelines. "If we succeed tonight, I'll give Jackson the Bite, and you'll train him. Until then, you still have about eight minutes, and I think you can do much better than one dance with Jackson."

I look around, taking in the scene in front of me. Stiles is dancing with Lydia, Scott has slipped onto the dance floor and is dancing with Allison, and Jackson is walking outside with his bottle of alcohol. Everyone is doing what they want, with the people they want, and the one person I want to be with right now isn't here. I left this place what feels like a lifetime ago, and don't fit in here anymore. I look up at Peter, however, and can't help placing my hand in his, accepting the invitation.

In spite of being a killer, he's one of only a handful of people that come from my world.

He leads me onto the dance floor, and I feel several pairs of eyes on us. I wonder what excuse Peter used to come here- chaperon, most likely- and if I'll be getting grief for this later on. Regardless, I spin around as he turns me, then settle with one hand in his and the other on his shoulder. He has his hand politely placed on my waist, and we start to dance. He holds me close, and while the form is intimate, it's not romantic.

"I take it you're a dancer," he comments quietly, looking down at me. I nod, keeping my eyes on his chest.

"Mom forced my brothers and I to take lessons when we were younger," I explain. "Nothing too extravagant." He hums in acknowledgment.

"Before or after teaching your brothers control?"

"During. We were always taking lessons: swimming, languages, how to track with your sense of smell."

"And while they were taking lessons specific to our kind, what were you learning?"

"How to shoot things."

He smiles. "Sounds more like your parents were raising you to be a hunter," he points out. I shrug.

"With all the secrets I've been finding out lately, I wouldn't be surprised," I murmur. "Roy and my mom reunited when I was four and training started when I turned five. Maybe he put in his two cents about what he wanted me to study in the off chance she died and he decided to chase the rest of my family out of town."

"I highly doubt he planned _that _far ahead," he says lightly. "The Roy that I know seems more like the type to hope you'll leave the pack of your own free will and join the family business." Before I can ask, he answers my question. "I met Roy in college. We were lab partners." When I raise my brows in surprise, he grins. "I'm joking."

"I was about to say, the cherry on that sundae of dysfunctional would be finding out I have a vampire twin sister or something," I say, relieved he wasn't telling the truth. He frowns, a thought occurring to him.

"I'm surprised you've come to trust my nephew so easily." He spins me once, then pulls me back towards him, giving me time to compose my face at the delicate subject. "You'd think that an Omega would have been more cautious associating with a beta."

"We have an understanding," I explain carefully. "We both get the pack thing and instinct, and I've spent the past year hiding the largest part of me from everyone. It's... nice, not having to anymore."

"You do know that those closest to you are the ones that can hold you back the most?" he asks. I frown, and shake my head.

"Not Derek," I state. "It's the opposite. He challenges me, and pushes me to be strong. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't be a part of this pack."

Peter cocks his head to the side. "Are you in love with him?"

The question catches me by surprise but I scoff, averting my gaze to the other dancers. Scott and Allison are dancing on the other side of the auditorium, and as I watch, Scott lays his hand on her cheek and kisses her. The scene makes me happy for Scott, but I'd be lying to say it didn't make my stomach twist just a little bit. Scott loves Allison even if she's a hunter's daughter, and Derek was disgusted the moment he found out where my other X chromosome came from. He didn't even give me time to explain.

Shouldn't he know by now?

When I look back at Peter, he has a knowing look on his face. We've stopped dancing, but nobody notices as he nods at the exit. "Go," he urges, smiling with one side of his mouth. "I'll follow once I finish my business here." He takes my hand and squeezes it lightly, then walks away. When I open my hand, my truck key is there. What business? I don't ask questions and turn around to leave. Every minute I waste here at the dance is another minute I could be too late to save Derek. Stiles is looking at me incredulously, and I give him a nod as I pass by, motioning for him to follow me. Lydia isn't with him anymore, and Allison, Scott and Jackson are gone too, so he's the only one I can update.

"What the hell was that?" he demands, motioning in the general direction of the spot where Peter and I were dancing. I shrug, striding as fast as I can in heels without attracting attention. Nobody seems to care much that Stiles is yelling, but I don't want anyone to notice me, either.

"I was dancing with my Alpha," I say bluntly, walking down the hall.

"Yeah, I could see that!" he exclaims, raising both brows. "Is this because I came with Lydia? Because you made your point coming with Jackson, and I'm sorry if-"

"Stiles!" We're outside now and I grab his arms, stopping him verbally and physically. "Yeah, I was bummed when you canceled on me, but there are more important things going on. Right now I need to go save my pack mate," I say earnestly, imploring him to understand. "He's chained up in the basement of the Hale house being tortured even as we speak. Peter, however, is going to stay here, and make one last attempt to convince Scott to join him." I lower my hands and take his, squeezing them tightly. "Please, give Allison an excuse for me, take care of yourself, and warn Scott and Jackson. You guys are the closest thing I have to a pack, and I can't lose any of you." Stiles nods mutely, and I let him go, taking in his blank expression as if it's the last time I'll see it.

Because really, the intense way things are turning out? It isn't very unlikely.

* * *

"You're just in time," the guard comments, nodding at me in greeting. I don't say anything, just cock my head to the side, and he explains. "The interrogator. He just left to get the rest of the things."

"Perfect," I say, smiling friendlily. "Is he awake?"

The hunter nods. "I think so. He was yelling a second ago," he recalls. I mask my indignation with a fake smile and push open the door. The guard closes it behind me, giving me a friendly wink before doing so. All sound from outside the door is blocked, assuring me the guard won't be able to make out what I say if I speak low enough. I turn to face Derek once the door is securely closed, taking in the damage. He looks the same as the last time I saw him, only he's much weaker and is breathing more heavily than before. My heart sinks to see dried blood on his chest, and I feel a near-overwhelming urge to kill somebody. His green eyes meet mine the moment I step forward, and he growls warningly.

"Get the hell out," he snarls.

That does it.

"No benefit of the doubt, huh?" I snap in a whisper, marching over to the table covered in bloody torture instruments. I pick up a pair of scissors, then put it back down. Useless right now. "You'll believe Peter in a second when he tells you he 'accidentally' tore Laura apart, but at the first suspicious sign, I'm guilty as charged. I mean, it's not like I didn't save you from a wolfsbane bullet wound when Stiles wanted to leave you in a dumpster." I pick up a wire-cutter from the floor and squeeze the handle to test it out. "And when you went MIA after your uncle attacked us at the school, I didn't watch Scott in your place." I crack my neck and roll my shoulders.

"And it was somebody else that's been giving you food and board while you've been running from the police, right?" I walk around to the back of the fence where his shackles are fastened, and climb on a box to reach up to the chain. "And you couldn't, I don't know, maybe _consider _that even if my biological father's a hunter, that maybe I'm on your side?" I continue, stretching up with the wire cutter to the chains. "Because, trust issues aside, maybe my being raised by frickin' _werewolves_ should have clued you in on the fact that I'm at least slightly on your team, by default."

When I can't reach the chains, I scowl and climb down, stalking over to a ladder. "I only found out about Roy the other day. I'm still processing. He knows about what I am, but he's been covering for me from the Argents." I lift the ladder and take small, quick steps behind the fence. "Which means they think I'm with them. That's how it has to be. So, you see, there's been so much going on, it's perfectly understandable that I'd just happen to forget to share the news about finding my birth father with you," I rant on, keeping my voice level at a loud whisper. "And maybe joining Peter's pack and the awkwardness after I kissed you put that at the bottom of my list of priorities, hmm?"

I set up the ladder behind the fence, and climb up as quickly as I can without slipping. I changed out of the heels into a pair of brown boots I had in the car, but even these boots have a one-inch wedged heel that can make me trip if I'm not careful. "You know Derek, you're strong and all, but I'm starting to wonder about just how bright." I cut through one of the chains, then move onto the others. "Couldn't you tell that I was acting the whole time?"

"Your heart rate doesn't spike when you lie," he reminds me bitterly. "And are you sure you were acting the _whole_ time?"

Of course he'd bring that up. I hit his head through the fence, glaring. "Don't!" I warn. "We've already had this conversation, and you've already made your opinions about me clear. So, if I kiss you while you're chained by hunters, you're just gonna have to suffer through, tough guy. You've been through worse tortures."

"And you couldn't have done this sooner?" he asks sarcastically. I roll my eyes.

"I was outnumbered, and needed a plan."

"And the dress and hair have what to do with that plan?"

I blow a lock of hair out of my face, then cut through another chain. "You just stay quiet and listen for anyone coming down the hall," I mutter, not in the mood to explain any more than I have. "I still have half a mind to leave you here."

"What, so you can kiss me again?"

My annoyance with him gives me the strength necessary to cut through the last chain, effectively freeing him. "I accept payment in the form of food and cash rewards," I announce, stepping down from the ladder. "Or shoulder massages. You have big hands, so shoulder massages are preferred when you get rid of the stick you have up your ass." I toss the wire cutter into a box and dust off my hands as Derek stretches his arms and cracks his neck. I glare at him.

"And don't worry," I snap, not bothering to hide even an ounce of my irritation. "That was the last time I'll kiss you."

He opens his mouth to respond, but stops as a sound reaches us from the hall. The hunter interrogator's come back. Without need of verbal exchange, Derek goes back into place against the fence and I scurry over to the table of instruments, grabbing a scalpel off of it. Just as the door is being opened, I stride up to Derek and hold it up to his sternum.

"What are you hoping to do with that?"

I feign surprise as I whorl around to face the aged hunter, a baseball bat held in his hands. I lower the scalpel and smile at him, eyeing the bat curiously. "I take it you're the interrogator, huh?" I say jokingly. He nods and moves next to me, looking up at Derek with a sadistic glint in his eye.

"Hasn't given up any information about the Alpha or the Beta," he says with disappointment. He recovers quickly and steps back, shrugging. "No matter. I'll break him soon enough."

"Are we sure he knows where the Alpha is?" I ask innocently. "He might not be a part of his pack." The man scoffs.

"You might be new to the game, but trust me, he's hiding something," he says arrogantly. "It's just their first instinct to protect their own, even against a pretty face like yours. They're animals." I bite my tongue about his implication that I'm only a pretty face, and curiously observe the torture instruments. He pulls something that looks like an elongated hook out of my hand, then raises a brow. "Do you really want to be here when I get started?"

That's when I hear it. Imperceivable to human ears, and from a considerable distance, I hear a howl, but not just any howl: it's Scott. I look up at Derek, and he's giving me a meaningful look. He needs to call him. I smirk at the hunter, and grab the saw off the tray.

"May I?" I ask. The hunter's eyes widen, and Derek seizes the opportunity to take a deep breath then howl. The room vibrates with the force of his roar, the sound filling my ears and crawling under my skin. His howl is powerful and confident, more resembling an Alpha's howl than a beta's. And by God, it makes me want him more. There is no way Scott couldn't have heard him, but unfortunately, so have the hunter and the guard.

The guard comes rushing in, gun raised and pointed at Derek. The interrogator curses and also pulls his gun out of its holster, so I follow suit and grab my gun. Because, yes, I fastened my gun harness over my dress on the way here, along with two extra clips at my ankles, and my arm gun on my right forearm. Derek finishes howling by the time the three of us are in position, and glares at us, not saying a word. He keeps his eyes trained primarily on the interrogator, and I can tell that there's a deep desire for retribution.

"Who the fuck is he calling?" the guard exclaims. When Derek smirks, the guard's hands start shaking. "What if it's the Alpha?" The interrogator seems to have a bit more control than the guard and moves forward, pulling his knife off his belt. Realizing what he's going to do, I surge towards Derek and lift myself up by the fence. Baring my teeth, I shove my gun into Derek's jaw.

"Who's coming?" I demand. He growls, but knowing it's just an act, I press on. "Who did you signal?"

"Get down from there!" the interrogator hisses. He reaches forward to grab me, but in a flash there's a clawed hand around my neck and I'm turned around, held to Derek's chest like a shield. I squeak and try to find footing on the platform, but he's not being gentle at all and is holding me up too high. I clasp onto his arm and stretch my neck so I can breathe as he bares his teeth at the hunters and roars. They immediately stumble back several feet, but don't lower their weapons.

"Derek-"

"Shut up," Derek interrupts. Wrapping an arm around my waist, he jumps down from the platform.

"Let her go," the interrogator barks. Derek doesn't respond, but tightens his grip on my neck, making it even more difficult to breathe. At first I hardly struggle, but as the seconds pass, panic starts to set in, and I claw at his skin.

"De-Derek-!" I wheeze. "Can't-!"

"Throw me your weapons," Derek orders calmly. The two hunters look at me, take in my quickly reddening face, and lower their guns an inch, considering. "Now!" he yells. I gasp when his hands at my waist releases its claws, cutting into my side painfully. Seconds later, warm blood starts to pool around the puncture wounds. This pushes the hunters to bend down and slide their weapons across the floor towards Derek.

Just as I feel Derek's grip loosen, the interrogator reaches behind him and whips out another gun, aiming it straight at Derek.

Bad move on his part.

Right before the interrogator fires, I'm tossed to the ground, my forehead hitting the cement floor hard. The sounds of gunshots, punches landing, grunts, and the yells of the hunters fill the room, but rather than join the fight, I lift myself onto my elbows and crawl out of the way under a table. Throbbing pain and dizziness are both shooting through my head, so I'm completely useless right now. It wouldn't be the first time I got a concussion, but at least I haven't passed out yet.

After about a minute, silence falls over the room, and I don't have a single doubt that Derek has emerged victorious. Surely enough, when I dare open an eye and the room stops spinning, Derek's standing close to the table and holding out a hand to help me stand. Surprisingly, though, Scott is crouched behind him, taking the pulse of one of the hunters. The lack of a hissy fit assures me that there is indeed a pulse in the hunter's artery. Thank goodness. The killer headache setting in makes it clear that I wouldn't have the patience to handle any whining if there was.

"You okay?" Derek asks. I raise a brow at him, then wince at the pain it takes to create the gesture. "Sorry."

"Well, I electrocuted you," I remind him, taking his hand and carefully getting up. Once I'm standing, I hold a hand to my forehead and close my eyes. The room's started spinning again. "Can we call it even?"

"What are you doing here?" Scott asks, looking between me and Derek. "Weren't you at the dance with Peter?"

"I left," I answer bluntly. "Came to break Derek dearest out of this weird S&M ritual Kate Argent set him up in. What are _you _doing here?"

"Allison knows," he says tiredly. My jaw drops, and Derek's body tenses.

"So the rest of the Argents know, too," Derek concludes.

"Did Peter do anything?" I ask urgently. He hasn't mentioned Stiles or Jackson, and while in my list of priorities they are now at the top, I know Allison is still eternally higher at the top of Scott's priorities.

"I don't know," Scott admits. "I left right after the hunters tried to _run me over with their cars_."

I cringe. "That's rough." I pull my cellphone out of the pouch on my belt and send a text message to Stiles and Jackson.

_I need an update. NOW. Are you alright?_

Scott reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a folded sheet of paper. He holds it to Derek, who takes it with a frown. It's a newspaper article with a photograph of a dead deer with a spiral in its side. I learned enough about spirals with my family to know that it's a symbol for revenge. "There's more. Wolf hair was found on the body, and Peter's nurse? She sent that clip to your sister," Scott states. "He says killing her was an accident, but he's lying. He lured her out, then used her power to heal himself." He steps back and looks down the hallway to make sure nobody is coming. "Look, I want to take him out, but I can't do it alone. We need to work together if we even want a _shot _at killing him."

Derek crumbles the newspaper article in his fist, and takes a deep breath, his arms and shoulders tense as he resists the urge to shift. I want to comfort him, but know better than to hug him like I would Stiles or my cousins, so I settle my hand on his arm. "He's going to meet me at the Hale house to kill Kate," I say, looking from Derek to Scott. "There's no better time than now."

Both betas nod in agreement. "Are you up for it?" Scott asks, eyeing Derek's ragged appearance. Derek doesn't say anything, simply grabs his shirt, jacket and boots off from the pile by the door and starts walking.

Of course he's ready. He wants revenge.

When we reach ground level again, the cold wind hits us hard. I wrap my arms around myself, but my bare shoulders, arms and legs prickle with the cold. Why the hell did I have to lose my jacket? Neither Stiles nor Jackson have answered my text, so I'm starting to worry. I listen intently for the sound of a car engine approaching, but hear nothing. The boys walk ahead of me as I check my phone, but after they take a couple of steps, Derek stops.

"Something doesn't feel right," he says, looking around with a frown. "I thought we would've run into more hunters by now."

Scott is about to argue, when suddenly Derek drops to his knees, letting out a grunt of pain. An arrow is lodged into his thigh, shot from somewhere in the trees behind us. "Run!" he yells. Ignoring his order, I surge forward and firmly grip the arrow, wrenching it out as smoothly as I can. He curses from the pain, but doesn't waste any time in scrambling to his feet. I hold him up and help him on his bad leg, carrying as much of his weight as I can as we try to make it to the Hale house for shelter. In front of us, Scott is suddenly shot down as well, this arrow hitting his calf. I look in the direction the arrow came from, and feel my stomach drop. Kate and Allison are kneeling in the grass several meters away, and Allison has her bow aimed in my direction.

A gunshot breaks through the air, and I don't waste a second before ducking my head and running again. Derek staggers next to me as fast as he can, but pushes off of me when we reach Scott. "Get him into the house," he says, leaning on his other leg for support. I loop my arms under Scott's and start to drag him towards the porch, when suddenly gunshots start firing in our direction. Derek is hit several times, but just as the line of fire reaches Scott and me, it stops.

Allison marches out of the trees towards us, her crossbow pointed at Scott. Expression etched in stone, she looses an arrow at him, hitting his other leg. "Allison, please!" Scott cries out. I'm not as eloquent and drop him to the ground, surging forward. In a second I have my hand wrapped around Allison's wrist and twist her arm behind her back, forcing her to release the crossbow.

"Don't hurt her!" Scott yells. I glare at him and let her go, picking up the bow from the ground.

"Maybe if she'd take a second to ask questions rather than reach her own half assed conclusions, I wouldn't have to!" I snap in annoyance.

"You both lied to me!" she yells angrily. I glare as Scott hurries to try and explain.

"He's a _werewolf_!" I yell back. "Not exactly public information!" I disassemble the bow and toss the pieces to the side, grabbing my gun off my belt. Allison immediately scrambles away, eyes wide with fear.

"Don't shoot her!" Scott shouts, eyes glowing yellow and fangs bared. Yes, Scott would kill me before letting me shoot the girl.

"I'm not going to shoot her!" I exclaim exasperatedly. "I'm going to shoot-"

"Nobody's shooting anybody!"

Roy Blackbird's authoritative voice booms out from the trees, and is followed by him and Kate walking out side by side. Kate looks pissed beyond all measure, while Roy looks mildly irritated. "Seriously, Conner?" he says, looking at me. "I tell you to lie low and stay away from Derek until we take down the Alpha, and this is what you do." He tosses something at me, and when I catch it, I see it's my leather jacket. Last time I wore it was when we were attacked at this very house. He must have found it. "You left that at my place. Put it on before you catch a cold."

Even now, when I've blatantly gone against the hunters, he's protecting me. Gathering my wits, I pull on the jacket and gesture at Derek. "She was torturing him!" I exclaim defensively. "I'm sorry, but that's against the code! I had to break him out!" I point at Scott. "And he's even younger than I am! This isn't keeping the balance, this is just wrong."

"And so was Roy getting your bitch of a mother pregnant," Kate mutters, loud enough for me to hear. "Didn't stop him."

"Kate," Roy warns. "I already told you, that was part of the job." She rolls her eyes.

"Doesn't make it any less gross," she states. "I don't care what freaky stuff you're into; sleeping with a sympathizer is about as bad as bestiality, and that—"

All I see is red as I run towards the hunter. I'm straddling her stomach and pulling my fist back to punch her by the time Roy pulls me off of her, trapping me in a headlock. Even as he drags me away, I kick and writhe trying to get at the woman, my wolf side threatening to come out and rip her apart. In my haze I see Kate get to her feet and I scream in rage, clawing at Roy's arms furiously.

"Conner- calm down!" Roy hisses in my ear. As Kate turns away and faces Derek and Scott, I snarl and can't stop my fangs from showing. I'm losing control, and for the first time, I don't want to stop myself. This woman just hit below the belt, and she needs to die for it. Roy tightens the pressure on my neck, cutting off the air to my lungs. Distantly I hear Derek and Scott shouting, but my vision is starting to blur, and I can't make out any words. I feel consciousness slipping just as I hear a gunshot from very close by.

"Kate, stop!"

Roy releases me from the headlock and makes a break for Kate. I gulp deep breaths of air and look up, shocked to see Roy pointing his gun at Kate, who has her gun pointed at Scott. Derek groans and grips his side, and with horror I realize she's shot him. I scramble over to him, worried that his healing factor's weakened too much to heal it. As if it's been rehearsed, a car approaches right then, throwing up dirt and leaves as it skids to a halt only feet away. The driver jumps out of the car, and even if the headlights make it impossible to clearly see who it is, my guess isn't too far from the truth.

"Kate, put your gun down!" Chris Argent orders firmly, slamming the door shut behind him. He pulls out his gun as well and aims it at his sister, and Kate laughs.

"Really, Chris?" she says, raising an eyebrow. "You and Roy, actually agreeing on something?"

"This is against the Code," Roy states, his jaw tight with barely suppressed anger. "You captured and tortured Derek Hale without any proof that he'd killed anyone, and now you want to execute a teenager."

"Do you have any proof that he _hasn't _killed with the Alpha?" Kate challenges.

"I know about the Hale fire, Kate," Chris says, stepping forward. "You've broken the Code. It's over."

She looks over her shoulder at Roy, and gives him a sly smile. "I wonder who taught me the best tricks to get the job done," she comments. "Sleep with the enemy, get them to love you, then take out the pack..." She shrugs a shoulder, then meets my glare. "Your father's a fantastic teacher. Has he told you how good he is at breaking up marriages?"

"Dammit, Kate!" Roy yells, shaking his gun angrily. "Leave Leni out of this!"

"Isn't it the truth, Roy?" she shouts back, grinning sadistically. "Wasn't you telling her husband the truth about Conner what pushed him over the edge, made him kill her? Come on, you can't tell me you didn't count on it!"

Chris fires his gun then, the bullet just grazing past Kate's cheek. "If you don't shut up and lower your gun, I will shoot you," Chris threatens, his voice authoritative ice. "What happened to Leni was a tragedy, and werewolves like her husband? _Those _are the werewolves we go after, not children. Killing Scott will make you no better than the monster that killed Leni." She raises a brow and looks at me. Somehow, I know she sees through whatever story Roy's told the hunters to cover up my mother's death. From what I can gather, they know it was a werewolf attack that killed her, but don't know that she was a werewolf herself. After a couple of seconds, Kate holds out her gun for Roy to take.

Derek shivers, and I turn my attention back to him. He hasn't stopped bleeding, and despite his protests, I lift his shirt up to get a look at the bullet wound. "How's your healing?" I ask quietly. He's gritting his teeth, but he nods quickly.

"Don't worry, I'll be fine," he assures me. "Did you-?"

I shake my head. "Missed," I say with a half-smile. I look over my shoulder and see Scott still struggling with the arrow. "I'm gonna go help-"

A deep, angry howl from within the Hale house cuts me off. I stand up and reflexively pull out my gun, aiming it at the door with steady hands. Chris and Roy both have their guns pointed at the entrance and Kate has whipped out her backup gun. Chris yells for Allison to get back, which she reluctantly does, moving to stand behind her father. Derek gets to his feet as well and stands in front of me, shielding me from what we both know is about to come bursting out of the house at any minute. Roy looks back at me and I nod, confirming his suspicion.

"It's the Alpha!" Roy yells.

The door creaks open, and in a blur of darkness and red eyes, Peter bolts out. He moves like a shadow and faster than I can hope to move, first knocking out Chris and Roy before grabbing Kate's ankle with his teeth and dragging her into the house. Kate kicks at the Alpha and claws at the ground, but her fingers find no purchase before she disappears into the ruins. Allison screams and runs after her aunt, the door slamming shut behind her.

"Allison!" Scott shouts. He tries to run after her, but the arrow in his leg doesn't let him do more than stumble a foot ahead.

"Help him," I order Derek, then run into the house. In the living room I almost bump into Allison, who is paralyzed in the doorway. Peter stands by the fireplace in nothing but his brown duster with Kate held against his chest, his clawed hand digging into her throat. I lower my gun and step next to Allison, placing the weapon in her hands. She's going to need it more than I do.

"Ah, Conner, lovely of you to join us," Peter says warmly. "You're just in time to hear Kate's apology." He turns his face into her neck and bares his teeth. "Say it, Kate."

"Please... please let her go," Allison pleads. Peter looks at her out of the corner of his eye and grins.

"Conner, does Allison know what her aunt did to me?" he asks conversationally. "To my family?"

I gulp and shake my head. "No, she doesn't," I answer.

"Then how about you tell her how her aunt made my family, innocent women and children, burn alive?" he continues, the volume in his voice escalating with every word. "How I was in a coma for six years? How she _delighted_ in killing like an animal, when we're supposed to-"

"I'm sorry," Kate whispers, tears filling her eyes. They aren't remorseful tears, and I know that she isn't truly sorry for what she did. Her eyes are fixed on Allison, and I realize that, despite however sadistic or psychopathic she is, she genuinely cares about Allison, and is trying to protect her. "I'm... I'm so sorry."

Allison gasps as he wrenches his hand away and warm blood splatters everywhere. I blink away the blood that gets in my eyes and watch with as much detachment as I can muster as Kate's limp body falls to the ground, throat ripped out and blood gushing out of the wound. Sobs break through Allison's body and her hands shake as she sees her aunt die. Peter looks up at us and smiles regretfully.

"Sorry about the mess," he apologizes. He turns to me. "Conner, did that apology sound sincere enough for all that she did?"

Following his train of thought, I immediately move in front of Allison, shielding her from Peter. "Don't do this," I say quietly, shaking my head. "Please, Peter. Allison didn't have anything to do with-"

"Oh, but she will," he says calmly. "Your father did, and if I didn't break your mother's hypnosis, you would be on the same path."

"She's as innocent as the children in this house were," I argue. When he doesn't seem to be swayed by my argument, I glare at Allison over my shoulder. "Run, dammit!" I hiss. In a second she's running out into the hallway, and I know that my glowing blue eyes had to do with that result. I turn back to face Peter, balling my fists and taking deep breaths.

Peter chuckles, shaking his head. "Really? You want to fight me, Conner?" he says, raising a brow. "What would your mother say?"

I bare my teeth, and reaching into that part of me that's been suppressed for years, I shift into my wolf form. My fingers become claws, my hackles rise, and as I bare my teeth, I know they are sharp and ready to be dug into flesh. I feel power pulsing through my veins, unbridled and just barely kept in control.

And it feels fantastic.

In the back of my mind as I dive forward, I recognize that this would never had happened if I'd decided to stay an Omega. My claw rips into his chest and along his arms as he swings me around, throwing me into the wall. Pieces of plaster fall over me as I drop to my knees, winded by the blow. I quickly recover and take on a fighting stance, watching his movements carefully. He watches me too, and strangely enough, even if we're fighting, he doesn't seem angry or even betrayed. He looks proud. Just when I'm about to strike again, a figure comes out of nowhere and collides with his side, sending him flying several feet away into the fireplace.

"Are you alright?" Scott hurries to my side, gripping my arm and helping me to my feet. There's true concern in his face, and putting two and two together, I figure out that Derek is the one fighting the Alpha. True, I wouldn't be in as much danger if I lived like a real Omega, but then again, I'd still be fighting alone.

I nod mutely as Peter kicks Derek off of him and through the opposite wall into the foyer. Peter's shifting into his Alpha form, eyes glowing red and body twisting and morphing into the powerful black animal that has terrorized the town for months. Watching him, I feel a similar rage to what I felt outside take over, and I let it, embracing the animal. I growl and jump at him, knocking him over again. Not wasting a second, I bite at his shoulder, searching for his jugular. If I can just get at his throat-!

My teeth barely graze the skin of his throat when his claws close over my face and flip me over, slamming my head into the floor. I scream out in pain and try to pry his claw off, but he only lifts me up and slams me down again, harder this time. Stars dance behind my eyelids as I stop fighting, my body no longer listening to the commands I give it. Even when I give up, he grabs my shoulders, spins me around, then tosses me across the room like a rag doll.

My body settles on my stomach with my arm pinned underneath me and my head turned to the wall, but I can't bring myself to move it. I lay my free hand on the floor and try to lift myself up, but my arms are weak and only shake when I put pressure on them. I close my eyes and focus, but my head feels like it's spinning and, quite frankly, it feels as if the whole house rests on a ship in the middle of a storm. The roars and crashes of the fight continue on behind me, and I'm too weak to do anything about it. If I survive, more training is in order. I've spent _way _too many years training like a human, and I need to build up more resistance to being tossed around. Having a stronger pack might help, too. And maybe not handing my gun off to a girl who doesn't even know how to use it. Nick always said my maternal instincts would get me killed.

But figuring out that he was right all along is pretty useless at this point, now, isn't it?

* * *

I must have faded into unconsciousness, because when I open my eyes, I'm staring up at the sky instead of the burned wall of the house. I'm cold even if I'm wearing my jacket, and my body is laid out flat on my back. A familiar stench of burning flesh and ash hangs in the air as well as silence, broken when I blink my eyes and groan at the throbbing in my head.

"Hey, she's awake!"

The speaker is Stiles, and in a second he's holding me up in a sitting position and hugging me tightly. I wince at the dull pain that spreads through my back, but don't have the heart to push him away. Looking over his head, I spot Jackson, Roy and Derek standing by Jackson's Porsche. The three start over to me, Roy moving ahead of all of them and dropping to the ground next to me.

"How are you feeling?" he asks, pushing my hair back from my face to get a clear look at me. "You got a bit of a beating."

"Hardly," I mutter grudgingly. "With a bit of training, I'll be able to take much more than that." Stiles releases me, and I look between him and Jackson. "What are you two doing here?"

"We got here last minute to save your asses," Jackson announces without an ounce of modesty. "Lit the Alpha up while you were busy getting beauty sleep." He nods at my face suddenly. "I knew you couldn't be human."

Realizing the Porsche headlights must be shining in my eyes, I shrug nonchalantly. "It's a boring story," I say with a wave. "I'll tell it to you sometime."

"Looking forward to it," he mutters sarcastically. He nods at Stiles and Stiles gets to his feet, muttering something about going to check on Lydia (whatever _that _means). The two drop into the Porsche and drive away, leaving Roy, Derek and me alone. I turn to Derek, who's standing a couple of feet away, giving Roy and me space. He doesn't look too injured anymore and gives me a tight smile, which is the equivalent of a supportive hug in his book. I take what I can get and smile back.

"Where's Scott?" I ask him. Apparently there isn't any danger, so I need to start taking inventory of what happened.

"Waiting to talk to Allison," Derek replies. Roy gets to his feet, a serious expression suddenly taking over his face. "He'll tell her to keep quiet about your beta situation."

"So the Argents still don't know about what I am?" I press hopefully. He nods in confirmation, and Roy cuts in.

"And that's how it's going to stay," Roy states firmly, eyes fixed on Derek. "No change in pack status is going to change that." Derek has a tight jaw and is clearly resisting the urge to argue with Roy, but I can't understand why. "Tomorrow when you've both healed, we can start discussing what's going to happen next."

"I don't need to discuss anything with you," Derek says calmly. There's a confidence that borders on arrogance in his voice that I haven't heard before, and I can't help but frown at him, wondering what's going on. I sense something different about him; before, when I would look at him, I could tell that he was like me, a beta who knew what it was like to lose a pack.

Now, he just looks... different.

_Everything_ feels different.

"What happened?" I ask, directing the question at my father and pack mate. Roy sighs and sticks his hands in his jacket pocket, pulling out his cell phone.

"Derek here will fill you in on the way home," he answers, dialing 911. "I need to call the cops so they'll take care of the investigation. I suggest you two hurry up before the cops arrive." He pauses, then turns away. "Yes, I'd like to report a dead body..."

Derek gives me his hand and helps lift me up, grabbing my elbow when I sway. I smile at him gratefully and hold onto his arm as we start to walk back to where my truck is parked, easily a half mile away. I hadn't wanted to risk it being found during my rescue mission earlier. When we're out of ear shot of Roy, I start the questions.

"So, what happened with Peter?" I ask tiredly. "Last I remember, we were in the house."

"He's dead," Derek replies flatly. "Group effort. Allison shot him, Stiles and Jackson used the Molotov self-igniting bombs, and Scott landed a good hit or two."

I stop walking, not sure if I've heard correctly. "Wait, so you're telling me that Peter's dead?" I clarify, holding up a hand. He nods. "So, there's no Alpha terrorizing Beacon Hills anymore." He nods again, a ghost of a smile crossing over his lips. I laugh, and can't stop a grin from spreading across my face. "So we won?"

He puts an arm around my shoulders and pulls me to his side casually. "We won."

"YES!" I yell, throwing my arms around his neck. He stiffens and doesn't return the gesture, but I don't expect him to and let him go after a second, still smiling like an idiot. "I mean, it's not good to celebrate death, but we won, Derek!" I whisper excitedly, grabbing his arms and shaking him softly. "No more killings! No more running! No more Alpha's! It's over!"

"Well, not exactly..." He trails off, stepping closer as his voice deepens slightly. I feel my stomach drop at the possibility that there's a "but" to the celebration, and brace myself for the worst. Now I'm wondering about what negative things could come of the Alpha dying. If there wasn't an Alpha in Beacon Hills anymore, and Laura Hale's death was avenged... Would Derek go back to New York? He stops only three inches away, and looks up to meet my gaze.

His eyes are red.

I gasp, clasping my hand over my mouth and staring. He grins and runs his hand over my hair, settling it on my shoulder. "You're the new Alpha," I whisper unnecessarily. That was what felt different about the pack: my Alpha died, which means I no longer belong to a pack. He nods slowly. "So, you can start your own pack, here in Beacon Hills..." He nods again.

"I'm going to get back what I lost," he says quietly. His gaze is intense, and I feel myself lose strength under it. I clear my throat and lower my gaze, needing some relief.

"Well, that's... good," I manage, pushing down my own emotions. "Congratulations." Hell, it's every Omega's dream: to become a beta, then an Alpha, and start your own pack. You'd never be alone again. Secretly, all of us beta's have a list of people we would want to turn, or beta's we would want in our packs. Derek now has what I would kill to have: a second chance. When I gather my wits and look up at him again, his eyes are back to their normal color, and he whispers three words I never thought I would hear again.

I blink, not sure if I've heard him correctly. He repeats the words, running his thumb up and down my neck in a way that makes my body feel like it's coming alive. I shake my head and try to step away, but he only moves forward, backing me up against a tree. Trapped, I place my hands against his chest, trying to keep him a reasonable distance away. He ignores the barrier and moves even closer, stopping only when our legs and chests are pressed together.

"Join my pack."

"You don't mean that," I whisper, eyes shamefully filling with tears. Seemingly unaffected by my emotional overload, he lifts his other hand and holds my face between his hands, forcing me to look at him instead of the ground.

"I mean it," he says quietly. He cocks his head to the side, and my heart skips when his eyes lower to my lips. I shake my head, stopping him right there.

"You told me not to kiss you again," I remind him. He frowns, that frown that seems almost permanently etched onto his face at times. That frown I'm growing more and more attached to every day.

"Did I?" he murmurs. Finally one of the tears spills over, and he wipes it away with the pad of his thumb, watching me intently. Our eyes meet, and silently a message passes between us. We both have second chances. He pulls me forward and closes the space between us. His lips press firmly against mine, the warmth and softness contrasting with the cold exterior he always seems to bear. Caught by surprise, it takes me a couple of second to close my eyes and remember how to kiss him back. I lean into him and run my hands up his chest, memorizing the shape my fingers trace. He couldn't be more muscularly built, or feel more perfect under my hands. My heart is racing and it feels like my skin is vibrating with heat, needing to be as close to him as possible. One of his arms wraps around my waist and pulls me closer, pressing me completely against him so that there isn't any space between us. I lock my arms behind his neck and he lifts me up, one hand locking under my knee and hitching my leg up around his waist. My dress rides up to my hip, but I make no move to pull it down, too caught up in the moment to care about decency as I wrap my other leg around his waist.

I moan as he pulls away and trails his lips up my neck, his teeth grazing my skin. His breath fans over my shoulders, warming me beyond measure and making me forget about where we are, but not what he said. Those three words continue to play repeatedly in my mind, and as they slowly start to sink in, I can only smile and hold him to me tightly, as if to make sure he doesn't leave. Because now that he's said it, I don't plan to let him leave any time soon.

Now that I've found my pack, I refuse to be an Omega anymore.

* * *

**Post-Chapter Note:**

**Soooo, what do you guys expect to happen next :D?! No, this is not the end: now we move on to Season 2, woo hoo! So, review me with opinions and predictions, and I'll try to get the next chapter out before the next episode of Teen Wolf, hmm...? Take care guys :D!**


	13. Exploitation of Instinct and Coffee

**Author's Note:**

**Alright! So, here we venture into Season 2! And how crazy is Season 2 on TV turning out to be?! I love it! Anyways, I hope you all enjoy this chapter. The story will be including more of the hunters from now on, but Derek and the pack will still be the main focus. **

**This chapter is a bit special to me. The cafe scenes were originally the prologue of the story, were then re-fashioned to be the first chapter, and were ultimately put into the discarded folder on my computer, because I decided to start the story at a different point in the series. Let me know what you all think, and I'll try and get the next chapter out ASAP. Gotta take advantage of summer, right? Right!**

* * *

"So, let's just lay our cards on the table."

Roy sat at the bar, lifting a mug of steaming coffee to his lips appreciatively. Derek watched him carefully with arms crossed from the other side of the kitchen, listening for any sign of hunters approaching the apartment. It was an inconspicuous studio just like the last one, with minimal decoration, a Murphy bed folded into the wall and a workout bench in the corner. The hunter had called Derek and Conner to discuss the measures he'd taken to protect his daughter's identity as a werewolf from the Argents, but after only ten minutes asked Conner to leave so that he and Derek could speak in private.

The conditions to have Conner in the pack were... Strange. The Argents were aware that Roy being Conner's biological father was quickly becoming a public fact, even if, to Derek, it was still difficult to accept. In light of recent events (the Argents knowing she was aware of werewolves, had fought an Alpha, etc.), Roy found that it was imperative she start training as a hunter to keep suspicion away from her. Because the Argents all believed that Conner had gotten close to Derek in order to get close to the Alpha, she and Derek weren't to be seen together. Derek was supposed to feel that she'd betrayed him, and therefore was holding her in the same regard as Kate Argent.

"What else is there to discuss?" Derek asked. Even if (as far as he knew) Roy hadn't done anything to deliberately harm him or Conner, the man was still a hunter, therefore making it very difficult for Derek to stay still even for as little as five minutes, as Roy had promised. Roy took a long sip of his coffee, let out a heavy sigh, and placed it back on the counter.

"I won't ask for details, but I can assume you have a list," Roy began, keeping his eyes focused on the coffee. Derek didn't make any outward reaction to his words, but Roy took the silence as permission to continue. "I can also assume that the individuals on your list will be teenagers, without as much... baggage as Conner." He ran a hand through his hair, and took a deep breath. "I need your word that, despite the challenges, you will make sure that the Argents don't learn of what she is."

"She chose to be a part of the pack," Derek reminded him coolly. "She's chosen a side." Roy's jaw tightened.

"Only because she doesn't know what her other options are," he countered smoothly. "Reinforcements are on their way to Beacon Hills as we speak, and she may be my daughter, but there's only so much I can do to keep her safe." He looked up at Derek, a deep frown that seemed very uncharacteristic of him set into his face. "If you aren't going to protect her, then I may as well start training her now and investigate a way to re-suppress her wolf side so that she can actually be one of us and not just pretend."

"She's always been a wolf," Derek warned, raising a brow challengingly. "Now that she knows what it's like to be part of a pack-"

"Don't make me laugh," Roy cut off, his words coming out almost like a snarl. He pushed back the bar stool he sat on and stood up, balling his fists. "You haven't welcomed her into your pack. You're using her to increase your strength until you can replace her with someone more convenient." He cocked his head to the side, the gesture very much resembling Conner's. "Or am I mistaken?"

Derek smiled pleasantly and nodded. "No, you sound very much like you have it all figured out," he assured him, getting up from his position leaning against the wall. "I should have a pack within a month. Think you can handle covering until then?"

"And what about Conner?" Roy demanded. "You know she cares about you." Derek pulled open the door and paused right before shrugging.

"I'll leave that to you to decide."

The front door closed softly behind him, and Roy listened for the sound of the werewolf's disappearing footsteps before walking back to the spot where he'd been sitting. He'd kept his eyes so focused on the coffee mug that Derek hadn't noticed Roy's cellphone set face-up on the counter. Roy picked up the phone and held it to his ear, taking a breath to brace himself for whatever the listener would say.

"Did you get all that?" he asked. He heard something that sounded distinctly like a growl on the other end.

"Oh I heard it alright," Conner muttered. The sound of her truck engine roaring to life shot through the speaker. "Fucking jerk."

"What are you going to do?"

She barked a humorless laugh. "Before, or after I key his pretty sports car?"

"What are you going to tell him?" he clarified.

"That he can shove his invitation into the pack where the sun don't shine," she answered in a growl. "Thanks, Roy."

"Don't forget the Argents' funeral later."

"I'll be there."

* * *

**Several Days Later:**

I used to love Open Mic night.

Stacey's Cafe has a warm, cozy feel with a small stage in the corner and lots of wooden tables scattered across the hardwood floor. I've been working as a waitress here for over a year now and it's been going very well for me, enough so that I'm on first-name terms with all of the patrons and can get away with singing at the mic for an hour or two on nights like these. Well, to be more accurate, things were going well until a couple of months ago, when I got attacked. Then I started missing my shifts, and my boyfriend who works here cheated on me with his ex-girlfriend, making him my ex-boyfriend, and-

Well, it's just been a mess lately.

But I can't think about that right now. Jessie's sat down in his low stool with his old guitar and has just nodded at me, signaling that he's ready. I glance at Heath over my shoulder and he clears his throat, urging me to get started. He's seated on the wooden cajón as if he was made to play the instrument, and I'd be damned if he wasn't. Unable to find any excuse not to, I lower the mic to my level (even on a bar stool, I'm shorter than Genevieve, the girl who sang before me) and smile at the few people paying attention.

"Good evening," I greet, clearing my throat. "Seeing as none of you schmucks want to sing..." I pause as those familiar with my dry sense of humor laugh. "... My boss has sent me up here to entertain y'all for a bit. Sit tight and feel free to hand the boys song requests." I lean towards Jessie.

"Free Fallin'," Jessie whispers. I nod and straighten up, rolling my shoulders. "Three, two, one..." He starts strumming his guitar and I close my eyes, taking a breath to collect myself. Heath beats a soft, steady beat and I open my eyes, then start to sing.

_She's a good girl, loves her mama_

_Loves Jesus and America too_

_Shes a good girl, crazy 'bout Elvis_

Loves horses, and her boyfriend too...

My voice is not even close to being a powerhouse like Kelly Clarkson's or Whitney Houston's, but I can handle these slow melodies with ease. I haven't gotten any complaints yet and my boss sends me to sing every Open Mic Night, so I can only assume that I don't sound terrible.

Everyone knows the song, so as I sing, the patrons clap to the beat. I can't help but smile, feeling like we're all working to make the song sound just right. As we're bringing the song to a close, I make the mistake of looking towards the windows. It's everything to not scowl as I see him standing outside, arms crossed as he blatantly stares, just like he's been doing every night.

I force a smile and make it a point to not look out the windows as we get started on the next song, this one a Rascal Flatts ballad. I can't lose myself in the song like I used to be able to, but I try to fake it and act like the soulful singer I truly don't feel like I am. Five songs later I dare a look at the windows and am relieved to see that he isn't there anymore, but my energy has been completely drained from the tension. I shake my head at Jessie and he nods, understanding that I'm done for the night.

"Thank you all for upstaging me," I joke, referring to how they all sang along to our acoustic rendition of It's My Life by Bon Jovi. "I'm outta here." With a wave, I get down from the bar stool and set the guitar on its stand. The customers clap politely and I can't help but smile bashfully. Even after singing here for six months, it still surprises me when people applaud.

"Hey, Conner."

Not even five minutes later my boss's rough voice catches my attention and I excuse myself from the table I'm attending. She's standing by the bar and her arms are crossed, adding onto her stern expression to give her the overall displeased air she always exhibits while running the shop she opened with her husband, now ex-husband. I force a polite smile as I stop in front of her, looking at her questioningly.

"Is everything alright, Boss?" I ask. She nods.

"Yes, everything is fine. You're fired."

My stomach drops as does my jaw, and I can't help but wordlessly gape as I wait for an explanation. I can't lose my job, I need it to pay rent, food, utilities...! She rolls her eyes and leans back against the bar.

"Relax, kiddo," she snaps irritably. "I'm putting you in charge of the music from now on. You'll get a higher salary and work less days, but you'll be working later hours, and you can't miss coming in, even if you're sick." She nods at the stage, where Heath and Jessie are still playing music. If I'm not mistaken, it's a song from Harry Potter. "I heard Heath and you broke up, and now he's moving to Hollywood. Wants to be a big star. Jessie will move over there soon enough, so that leaves you." She raises her brow expectantly. "Do you accept?" Before I can even think up a response, she adds, "If you don't accept, you're fired." Not even sure what to say anymore, I nod mutely and she nods back, walking away. "You start Thursday. Go home," she calls over her shoulder dismissively. "Mentally prepare yourself or whatever."

In a daze I look up at the stage, and for a moment, Heath meets my gaze. As if he knows what Stacey has just told me, he gives me a shadow of a smile and nods. We haven't spoken since our last phone call when I hung up on him, but after days of me ignoring his pleas for forgiveness on the radio and not answering his e-mails (never mind that was all because I was more preoccupied with werewolf business), he got the message and backed off. I hesitantly smile back and give him a short wave before going to the locker room and collecting my things.

The parking lot has a good number of cars parked and a group of college students is arriving just as I'm leaving. It's Tuesday, so I figure they're picking up coffee to pull an all-nighter or something. College traditions I thankfully miss out on thanks to online schooling. Relieved that I'll be resting comfortably in my bed soon, I pull my keys out of my back pocket. Within a second they're snatched away, and with a growl, I turn around to glare at him.

Derek stands only a foot away, my car keys dangling from his finger teasingly. He looks exactly the same as the last time I saw him, donning a dark jacket, white shirt, dark eyes and an intimidating expression on his face. Well, it's meant to be intimidating; right now, it simply looks conceited. I set my jaw, refusing to show how shaken up I am by his proximity.

"Give those back," I demand. He raises a brow.

"Is that any way to talk to a friend?" he asks. I narrow my eyes at him.

"After the stunts you've pulled this week? Yes, that's exactly how I'm going to talk to you," I snap, not bothering to tone down the anger. "You may be the Alpha, but that doesn't mean you can get away with whatever the hell you want, and it most definitely doesn't mean I have to be your friend." He rolls his eyes, lowering his hand.

"I already told you, you're making it too personal," he says, annoyed at having to repeat the same excuse. "Ask anybody, it's essential to make the pack bigger in order to survive." I laugh humorlessly.

"Right, so it's all about survival, huh?" I press, not backing down. "So kissing me was only about survival? And the conversation I overheard you having with Roy was all staged, right?" When he only glares, I shake my head, running a hand through my hair. I don't care that I'm most likely making it puffy: he stresses me out, and I need to do something with my hands to keep from hitting him. "Geez Derek, if I thought that you were planning to kick me out the moment you got three betas, I would have stayed an Omega."

"Right, because good ol' Dad has saved you a spot in the family business," he finishes for me. I open my mouth to argue that it's not like that, but he hands me my keys and four screws, cutting me off. "Go ahead, take your keys. The truck won't start anyway, and by the time you've fixed her up, I'll have said what I need to."

I gape at him, shocked that he would stoop so low. "You messed with my truck?" I shriek. He doesn't look ashamed at all as I move to the front of my truck and open the hood. The cables normally connected to the battery are completely loose and the screws that are supposed to hold them in place are missing. "Derek, has the Alpha power made you go mental? What the hell's wrong with you?!"

"No, what the hell's wrong with you?" he shoots back, storming forward. Before I can stop him, he's grabbed my arm and is dragging me to the woods behind the cafe, determination in his every movement. I don't dare shout for fear of getting anyone else pulled into my whole mess, and reluctantly follow, knowing there's no other way to pacify the situation. He stops once we're out of earshot from the parking lot and shoves me against a tree, ordering me with his glare to stay still. He uses his physical advantage of height and muscle to try and make me feel small as he towers over me, but it doesn't work. He's offended me too much for me to back down.

"Conner, I need you to tell me what you told Roy," he says quietly.

"None of your business," I hiss.

"Dammit Conner, don't you get it?" he exclaims. "This town is infested with hunters, and you're a hunter's daughter! It's not exactly the simplest situation, and I need to think about what needs to be done to survive!"

"Well sorry I'm such a damn inconvenience!" I shoot back angrily. "But don't worry about it, I'm not your problem anymore! I quit your stupid pack, and Roy knows that!" I grab his shoulders and try to shove him away, but it's no use. "Back off already!"

"You know it's not so simple to just leave a pack," he reminds me. "You won't last."

"I've been an Omega before, and-"

"Then you know how stupid of a move it would be to go back to being one, right?" he says, raising his brows. I yell in frustration when he doesn't move, and finally look up into those green eyes, forcing myself to hold back the emotion and only show him the anger.

"I'd rather be an Omega than be in a pack where I'm considered only a temporary member," I state in a growl. "In a real pack, you follow a real Alpha, and you stick together, no matter what. You don't know what that means." He takes a step back, finally giving me space to breathe.

"And you would know about that, having been a werewolf for all of five minutes, right?" he says testily. "Stop acting like a girl and start acting like a wolf."

I know he says it because he's insulted, but that pretty much does it. Letting out a snarl I pounce at him, feeling my whole body vibrate as I attack, my claws and fangs partially extending. My palms thud firmly into the center of his chest, knocking him clean off his feet and sending us tumbling to the ground. We roll several times in a mess of claws and legs before he pins me down by my shoulders. Before he can get a firm footing I kick into his stomach, sending him flying back several feet. I jump to my feet and ball my fists in preparation, but I underestimated how fast he was. He kicks my legs out from underneath me, and before I can even fully fall to the ground he's holding me down by my neck.

He roars in my face, his eyes glowing red and his full set of canine teeth glinting menacingly at me. If anything is able to shut me up, it's that. He's beaten me, and we both know it. I retract my canines and pull my claws out from his arms where I'd grabbed onto him. Several seconds pass with only the sounds of our heavy breathing breaking the silence. He also shifts back to human form, but doesn't release my neck and keeps me trapped with his legs straddling my waist. He's looking at me expectantly, and I know what he wants me to say. But I can't, not without knowing.

"Did you mean what you said to Roy?" I ask in a hoarse whisper. Listening to his steady, uninterrupted heartbeat, I wait for him to speak.

"I need him to not know you're a part of the pack," he states quietly, his eyes meeting mine fully. "The pack's safety can't rest on the shoulders of a hunter. That is why I said what I did."

"So, you lied."

"Very much like you did when I was captured and being tortured by the Argents." He cocks his head to the side. "Still hurts anyway, doesn't it?"

I glare at him, but grudgingly surrender. "Point made." When he doesn't say anything, I push his hand off my neck. He braces it on the ground next to my head, but doesn't get up. "I'm not sure I want to deal with your new violent ways of communication."

"But you'll join the pack?" he clarifies, ignoring my last comment. I glare.

"You're pushing," I inform him. He raises a brow, waiting. "I'll think about it. Satisfied?" He answers by getting off of me and extending a hand to help me to my feet. I ignore his extended hand and stand up myself, dusting off my work uniform roughly. He doesn't seem put off at all by my rudeness and waits until I've straightened my clothes.

"Remember, to Roy, we're enemies," he says. "So, pretend to hate me, all right?" I resist the urge to roll my eyes at his smirk.

"Not that hard to do anymore," I mutter. He starts to turn away, so before he can leave, I ask the question that's been keeping me up at night, much to my embarrassment. "Did it mean anything to you?" There's no need to specify what I'm talking about. He stops and looks back at me with a frown. When he doesn't say anything, I feel my stomach sink. "Heat of the moment, huh?" Still he doesn't respond, so I roll my eyes and start walking back to the parking lot. "Go to hell, Derek Hale," I mutter. "And take your stupid pack with you."

* * *

"So, you're sure you're fine?"

Roy asks the question for the second time since I've arrived, and I give him the same response. "I'm fine, Roy," I mutter, keeping my eyes focused on the gun barrel I'm cleaning out. "Mom always told me, you don't need a perfect pack, but you need a committed one." I set the gun down on the table and grab the shotgun, and the brush to clean the barrel. "Derek and his trust issues can kiss my werewolf ass."

"Careful what you say out loud," Roy warns. We're in an actual house this time, this one with much more decoration than his apartments. It has three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a proper kitchen and living room, which we're currently sitting in now. Apparently, this is the residence his mail arrives to, and it's also the one the Argents know about. I'm starting to get the feeling that he has at least two other homes I don't know about, but he doesn't mention them, and I don't ask. Hell, if I had the money for it, I'd definitely keep a secret apartment that I could hide out in when being chased by hunters or werewolves.

"Don't worry about it, I'm listening for when they arrive," I say, tapping my left ear. "Strong hearing, remember?" I stop and cock my head to the side. "Speaking of which, a couple of SUV's just parked by the road. Think they're here?"

Roy sighs and nods. "Yup. They like their big cars." He reassembles his pistol and sets it down on the table. "Remember, don't bring up Derek," he reminds me as he stands up. I follow suit and put down the shot gun before getting to my feet. "If Gerard mentions him, which he most likely will, you act as detached as possible. He may seem like a harmless grandfather type, but he's been a hunter for a long time and is a master at reading people, understand?"

"Got it," I assure him, dusting my hands off on a rag. I'm wearing a navy long-sleeve dress that shows my back and flares out at the knees, an outfit my boss recommended I wear for work today. Apparently the new music director isn't allowed to wear the black pants and black polo that the waitresses normally wear. Hopefully dressing up will also give me a good first impression when I meet the new hunters in town. The door bell rings and Roy nods, motioning for us to go answer the door.

On the doorstep is Chris Argent, his wife, Allison, two large men standing behind them, and an older man with white hair. I can only assume that the older man is Gerard, and the two men some of the hunters he works with. Roy smiles friendlily at the and motions for them to come inside. He and Chris hug- a manly hug, of course- and he kisses Mrs. Argent's hand politely, as well as Allison's. After greeting the two hunters with handshakes, he turns to Gerard, a respectful look on his face as he shakes his hand.

"Gerard, it's been a long time," Roy greets. Gerard smiles warmly at Roy and nods in agreement.

"Too long. Last I heard, you were handling a pack in Pittsburgh," he comments. Roy laughs and waves a hand.

"Just two young betas, it was an easy job," he says. He puts an arm around my shoulders and pulls me next to him. "Gerard, this is Conner Fitz," he introduces. "My daughter."

Gerard raises his brows and doesn't bother hiding his surprise as he looks me over, those aged eyes taking in every detail. I smile pleasantly and hold out my hand, playing the part of the quiet daughter. Gerard takes my hand and shakes it firmly, still looking me over. "I didn't know you'd contacted your daughter," Gerard admits. Roy chuckles and leads the group to the kitchen.

"We found each other recently," Roy explains. "Taking things one day at a time. Coffee?"

"We would love coffee! And the rest of your pack?" Gerard asks, directing the question at me. I keep my expression mildly nervous as I walk next to the older man, avoiding his gaze.

"Only Da- _Steven_ was a werewolf," I lie, pretending that my hesitation has to do with the betrayal, and not with him probing into very, _very _delicate territory. "The rest of us are normal, but he packed them all up and left about a year ago." I risk a glance up at Roy, and see that his back is turned to us and tense as he starts pouring several mugs of coffee. "Roy found me a couple of months ago and told me the truth about everything, and here we are."

"And here we are," Gerard agrees, sitting down at the kitchen table. Chris, his wife and Allison seem more relaxed in the house than I feel, so I can only assume they've visited Roy here before. As I help Roy by setting up cream and sugar at the table, he continues the polite conversation. "So Chris tells me you're seventeen, and a college student already? How did that happen?"

"I took AP classes in high school and opted to graduate early after my family left," I explain smoothly.

"And how have you survived without any help?" he presses. I shrug.

"My mother had life insurance, I receive some social security, and I work at a cafe about two towns over." This is safe territory, so I chance a smile at the family. "You guys should stop by one of these days. We make great coffee and tea, and every night we have live music."

"Actually," Roy cuts in, carrying the tray of coffee mugs to the table, "Conner just got promoted to musical director."

Chris looks at me with interest as Gerard raises his brows. "An artist, are you?" Gerard comments. "Is that what you're studying in college?" I sit down across from him and next to Allison and shake my head, grabbing my own cup of coffee as Roy sits next to me.

"I can sing a little bit and I play some guitar, but nothing all that impressive," I say honestly. "Right now I'm just getting an Associate of Arts online so that I can transfer to an actual college in a year or so."

"And what would you like to study?" Chris asks as we all add sugar and cream to our coffees. Allison's watching me carefully, and I finally understand why they're asking all of these questions: it's for Allison's benefit. Hunter's daughter that's connected to werewolves? Not too many people to relate to. I shrug.

"Not sure yet. Health care seems very rewarding, but I don't think it's much of my calling," I answer.

"What about engineering?" I'm surprised by Chris's suggestion, and as if he realizes it, he explains. "Roy won't stop talking about the improvements you made to his sci-fi air soft project."

"Oh, the arm gun?" I hold up my scarred hand for them to see. "After it saved my life, I figured I owed it some adjustments to avoid further scarring." I lower my hand and take a drink of coffee. "But I never considered engineering. It seems like an expensive career to study for."

"We've only recently started putting money away for the last years of college," Roy says casually, winking at Chris. "I hope you're not making my mistake."

I give Roy a questioning look. He hasn't mentioned a college fund before. "No, we're hoping to be able to send Allison wherever she wants to go," Chris replies. I keep looking at Roy, and after a couple of seconds, he turns his head slightly and winks at me. Emotion grips my throat and I have to swallow some coffee to ease the lump that wants to turn into tears. He really is looking out for me, and not just to save his own hide from the hunters.

I'm starting to get the feeling that he genuinely cares for me like a daughter.

The rest of the visit passes without incident or mention of werewolves. The adults continue to talk about college plans for us daughters and business, and Gerard politely inquires about our lives, trying to get up to speed on everything that has happened- in our personal lives, not related to werewolves. As the visit starts to end and Roy and I walk the family to the door, however, Gerard finally breaches the subject I was anxious he would.

"So Roy, when will you have your daughter start training?" Gerard asks, one foot on the door mat and another inside the house. Roy looks at me to gauge my expression, but I only look expectantly at him like everyone else. This is his call.

"She already has the basic skills down, but I was hoping to ask you about that," he answers, giving Gerard a questioning look. "Do you think she's old enough?"

"Can you fire a bow, girl?" Gerard asks me. I nod.

"Not as well as a gun, but yes," I answer. He meets my eyes and stares at me intensely for several seconds before turning back to Roy.

"She's more than ready," Gerard confirms, and steps out of the house. "You and Chris know the drill." Roy and Chris nod at each other, and I can only imagine what kind of message has been passed between the two of them. I wave goodbye to the family, signaling to Allison to call me later, before Roy closes the door.

"You know, for a werewolf meeting with a family of hunters, you didn't do half bad," Roy comments teasingly. I roll my eyes.

"Don't invite them for dinner, or they'll see my terrible table manners and burn me at the stake," I shoot back with a grin. He scoffs.

"Don't you know this yet, Conner? We don't burn werewolves, we decapitate them."

"And that's _so_ much better."

* * *

Turns out being the new musical director isn't half bad. I'm already a night person as it is, so I don't mind working later than I've been used to, or coming in earlier to help set up the equipment. After the visit with the Argents earlier I came straight to work, and was surprised to see three musicians I didn't recognize waiting for me in the locker room. Jessie was thankfully there too, and explained that he had booked new musicians for the next two weeks to help me get started.

Heath left last night for Hollywood, leaving a short and sweet goodbye letter on my doorstep. Turns out he ran away with Linda, and he apologized for any pain he put me through, but that it always had and always would be Linda. Go figure. Jessie would be moving in with them in a couple of weeks once he was certain I was ready to handle the workload on my own, a gesture I greatly appreciate.

The group plays music that reminds me of the rain forest. They use a 20-bar wind chime, a rain stick, a cajón that Heath left behind, and several other instruments I can't name. The clientèle seems happy with the music, but as the hours pass by, I get the feeling we won't be calling them back any time soon. After taking a fifteen minute break, the two men and the woman come back with bloodshot eyes and the smell of marijuana hanging over their clothes. We pay them exactly what we promised without any tips, and release them an hour earlier. Jessie and I cover music for the last hour, playing mainly country ballads until the shop empties out. We pack up the equipment and lock it up before leaving, saying goodbye to the waitresses and the Boss, Stacey.

"You look like a whore," she informs me flatly. When my jaw drops, she rolls her eyes. "Calm down, I like it. Keep on dressing like that; you guys made more tip money in the last hour than that band made all night." She pointed a warning finger a Jessie. "No more stoners, you hear me?"

"Got it Boss," he says quickly, saluting her. We hurry out and walk to our respective cars after saying our goodbyes, and I watch as his cars peels out of the almost-empty parking lot. When I turn to my truck, I'm only mildly surprised to see Derek leaning against his car, arms crossed and a frown on his face.

"What do you want?" I ask tiredly. He gets up and takes a step forward, still leaving two parking spaces between us.

"It did mean something to me," he states. "But there's too much going on for me to give you what you want." It takes me a moment to remember what he's talking about, and when I do, I frown, eyeing him suspiciously. There's something off about the whole thing.

"That's not why you came here," I say slowly. He hesitates, but nods in confirmation. He opens the passenger door of the car, and on cue, a familiar person steps out. I blink a couple of times disbelievingly, until I accept that my eyes aren't deceiving me: it's Isaac Lahey, a friend of Nick's little brother. He's a year or two younger than me, but when Vincent, Nick and his friends would hang out and we'd be forced to tag along, Isaac and me would be the ones left out.

"Isaac?" I try, just in case. The jumpy teenager nods, and I look back at Derek. "Why...?"

And then I realize. My list. Before our fight, I'd mentioned to Derek that I had a list at my apartment, of my imaginary pack. He must have found it. He nods in confirmation, and I look at Isaac again, this time with new light. "You've had the Bite," I say, the words coming out more like a statement than a question. His eyes widen, and he looks to Derek questioningly. Derek gestures to me.

"I can see you've already met, but I should introduce you two anyway," Derek starts. "Isaac Lahey, this is Conner Fitz, formerly known as Conner Daniels. She's our eyes and ears in the Argents' operation." He looks at me now. "She's your pack mate and an equal, but she has a lot to teach you, and is to be treated with respect." I feel a warm feeling spread in my stomach, and realize my cheeks are starting to burn. This is more verbal praise than I've ever received from him, and I take a deep breath to rein in the emotion. "She's the one who chose you."

"You chose me?" Isaac repeats, looking at me with wide eyes. I glare at Derek, who seems completely unaffected.

"Exploiting my maternal instincts, aren't you?" I mutter. "You know I'm a sucker for the lost and innocent." Derek shrugs, unashamed as Isaac looks between us with confusion. Not knowing what else would be appropriate to do, I step forward, extending my arms. He hesitates, but I smile encouragingly at him and close the distance, wrapping my arms around him in a hug. "Welcome to the family, Isaac."

Slowly he raises his arms to hug me back, and I risk a look at Derek, who eyes me steadily, and nods in approval. "Welcome to the pack," he seconds, and this time I know he's speaking to us both. I roll my eyes. He's distrusting, manipulative, and angry, but that's fine. Turning Isaac was a peace offering of sorts, and him even bothering to try and make things right means he's let me in a little bit. Funny, most guys send flowers and love letters. Derek? He gives me a beta.

Gotta love the Alpha way of making peace with his pack mates.

* * *

**Post-Chapter Note:**

**Let me know if you liked it :D! What do you guys think of Roy? Expect her to lean more towards the hunters, or her pack? Let me know :D!**


	14. Killer Instinct

**Author's Note:**

**WOW! That season finale...! Now I'm really going to have to keep writing in order to hold off until next season ha ha! Thanks for all of your reviews and predictions, I think it's going to be an interesting ride... ;) There is a little more cursing in this chapter, just so you know, and I apologize in advance for grammatical errors that I may have missed: I wrote half the chapter on my cell phone, ha ha. Enjoy!**

* * *

Midnight is an obscene hour to leave the workplace, especially when you work at a frickin' coffee shop.

Honestly. I didn't sign up for this bull shit. Despite Stacey's warnings, Jessie brought in another band that unfortunately didn't know how to go a whole work shift without sharing a couple of joints. This time, however, instead of letting Jessie and me dismiss them early and cover the music like with the previous case of Pot-Head, Stacey snapped and kicked them out with only half of their promised pay before they could drag the stench inside. Jessie and I were stuck covering music until closing, again, but that wasn't even the worst part. Turns out the band didn't take well to Stacey kicking them out for smoking their plant of choice and had proceeded to key both Stacey's BMW and my truck before leaving, and act we only discovered had been done upon closing at 10:30 PM.

Yes, those delinquents keyed my truck. Police arrived shortly thereafter and interviewed all of us, but by the time Jessie gave them all of the information he had on the four-man-group, it was already almost 12 AM. Needless to say, I'm actually starting to worry about the full moon tomorrow, because I already feel like I'm primed to go hunting down the four good-for-nothing idiots that decided to mess with my truck. At least I won't have to work.

I pull my brown leather jacket closer to me as I watch the police cars peal off down the main road after receiving an urgent call. It takes a lot to put the specific look on Sheriff Stalinsky's face that I saw, so I figure I'll be able to read about it in the newspaper tomorrow. The nights are still cold, and Stacey's continual insistence that I dress like a "whore" for work isn't helping. I start to pull my keys out of my jacket pocket when I sense him approaching, and turn around with confusion, my current problems forgotten as I catch a specific scent from the woods.

I smell fear.

Isaac runs out of the trees, his heartbeat like an erratic drum as he skids to a halt in front of me. He bends over, bracing his hands against his knees as he catches his breath. "Isaac, what's wrong?" I ask worriedly, squeezing his shoulder. His eyes are wide, his hands are shaking, and when he looks at me, I feel my body tensing for combat.

"It's my dad," he starts. "He's dead."

My stomach drops as I immediately consider the worst possible scenario (in this already worst-possible-scenario for Isaac). "Did you-?"

"No," he immediately answers, shaking his head and standing up. "I-I don't think so. It..." He trails off, stuffing a hand roughly into his hair and gritting his teeth. "It had to be something else. I know the full moon's coming, but it wasn't me, I-!" He trails off in a wolf-like whine, pulling his hair.

I grip his arms and hold him firmly in place, stopping him before he can hurt himself any more. "Isaac, look at me," I order firmly. He takes a second, but complies, looking at me with that unbridled fear in his eyes.

"Was it me?" he asks, his voice trembling. I shake my head, keeping my eyes focused on him.

"Listen to my heartbeat, Isaac," I urge, raising my hands to rest on his shoulders. "I'm your pack mate, and I wouldn't lie to you. You didn't kill your father, I would have smelled the blood." I pull him towards me and wrap my arms tightly around him. "I'm sorry for your loss. It's going to be okay."

He nods mutely and I release him, unlocking the passenger door of my truck and motioning for him to get in. As he does so I circle around the truck to the driver's seat, climbing in and locking the doors once they're closed. "What do I do now?" he asks quietly. I start the truck and drive out, keeping my eyes focused on the road.

"Right now? We can't do anything," I answer, taking the route to my apartment. "Derek and I will try to sniff out if it's another werewolf in town, but until then, you need to keep suspicion away from yourself and act like everything is normal, though I recommend skipping school and hiding out at my place to cram for Chemistry in case this resolves itself." I hold my cell phone out to him. "Call Derek. We need to have a pack meeting."

* * *

**The Next Day:**

Oh the boy's locker room. My last year of high school, I almost got expelled for sneaking in here to on a dare my brother Hector gave me. Needless to say, he got a good yelling when my dad and Susan found out. It still stinks like sweat and socks, and the boys still don't appeal to me like they should normal teenagers. It's always been difficult for me to notice a guy for long unless he's a shifter. As I march through looking for two familiar faces, boys still getting dressed rush to cover themselves, while those already dressed start dog whistling. The maturity makes it hard to breathe as it gushes out of every testosterone-overloaded male in the room.

All except for one. Jackson is only wearing a pair of boxers, but still manages to give me a cocky smirk in his near-nakedness. "Here to see little old me?" he asks, raising a brow. "Your timing isn't the best, but I'd be happy to give you an hour or two later on."

I laugh and lean against the lockers next to him. "Cool it Casanova, I'm here because the full moon's tonight," I say with a smile. He tenses at my mention of the full moon, but I pretend not to notice. "How you holding up?"

"Perfect," he says, a little too quickly. "Just fine. Why? Your Alpha tell you to keep an eye on me?"

I shake my head. "No, I just heard that you got the Bite, and the first full moon is always the hardest." I shrug a shoulder. "I promised you'd be part of the pack, and that I'd help you out."

"Well, I don't need it," he says, a defensiveness in his voice. "I have my own agenda now."

"Oh, trying to be a big bad Omega now, are you?" I exclaim, laughing. "I give you until the end of this full moon cycle to change your mind."

The hair on the back of my neck stands on end, and my whole body freezes momentarily. Everything seems to move in slow motion as my hearing strengthens and every heartbeat sounds loud and clear in my ears, one standing out more than the others. I look around, searching for whatever has set my Instinct on haywire. Scott and Stiles are standing not too far away and Scott meets my gaze, his eyes glowing yellow. He senses something too, though I'm sure he has no idea what to do about it.

Jackson frowns. "You might want to consider putting away the... glowing blue eyes thing." He takes a small step back, though he most likely doesn't notice that he does it. "And the fangs."

The coach chooses that particular moment to blow the whistle, signalling that the boys need to get out on the field. As the players start filing out, Scott amongst them, I close my eyes and take a breath, forcing my wolf side down. Geez, I'm not some newly-turned beta without any control, I'm the daughter of an Alpha, dammit! We're made of tougher stuff than this! "Sorry, full moon," I mutter. Shaking my head, I turn away, following the smell that caught my attention. Jackson doesn't call me back and leaves the locker room, but that's just fine. He seems to be handling the full moon pretty well, while Isaac...

I find him with his head dropped against his locker, his breathing heavy and his fists clenched tight enough to draw blood. He's fully decked out in lacrosse gear, and more than ready to go kick ass on the field for practice. When I touch his shoulder he lashes out and snarls. Luckily nobody is around, and when he sees that it's me, he immediately calms down.

After watching him for only a second, I reach a decision. "I'm taking you home," I state. He doesn't even try to object and nods, dropping down onto the bench. "Just give me a second to talk to your coach."

"Don't bother," he mutters tiredly, pulling his equipment off. "Let's just go."

"Sounds like a plan." When I turn to grab his backpack off the floor, I'm surprised to see none other than Stiles standing there, his expression somewhere between dread and dawning realization. He opens and closes his mouth several times, a hesitant finger pointed at Isaac as he looks at me, begging me to explain.

"Is- Is he-?"

"Yes," I answer bluntly, seeing no reason to hide anything from Stiles. "Just got turned the other day. I'm assuming you already know what that's like thanks to Scott, so you understand that I need to get him out of here." I sling Isaac's backpack over my shoulder and grab Stiles' hand. "Cover for him, please?"

Stiles still seems to be confused, but mutely nods, his eyes focused on Isaac. "He's... not going to kill me or anything, is he?" he asks, laughing nervously at the end of the question. "I mean, Scott tried, but..." I look back at Isaac, gauging how much the primal instinct to kill is gripping him. My silence seems to speak for itself, because Stiles immediately takes several steps back.

"Yeah, I'm gonna go... Coach... Yeah." He turns around just as the sound of footsteps approaches from the hallway, and stops when the doors open. "Dad?"

Isaac looks up at me, yellow eyes widening in fear.

"Stiles. We're looking for Isaac Lahey."

* * *

**Half an Hour Later:**

"You are the worst fucking Alpha in the history of Alphas, do you hear me?" I yell furiously into the phone, banging my hand against the steering wheel. "I came here to get him from school, and guess what? Big surprise, the cops showed up! Now the full moon is tonight, Isaac is in a cell, and I can't help because I'm barely holding onto my last ounce of control! Do something, since sending him to school was your fucking bright idea in the first place!"

When I hang up my phone, one of my claws scratches the screen, permanently damaging it. I toss the phone onto the passenger seat and grip the steering wheel, taking deep breaths and trying to pull myself together. Not having much success. With a growl I shift the car into drive and peal out of the school parking lot, driving as fast as I can to the local gym. As much as I want to go help Isaac or help Derek come up with a plan, in my current state, I can't.

Its either work out until I drop or go wolf shit on the police station.

* * *

My fingers drum nervously against the couch arm as I wait for the meeting to be over, my eyes glued to the grandfather clock against the wall. It's all I can do to keep from tearing the living room apart in an antsy fit. While Scott and Derek are searching Isaac's house and Stiles is trying to find a way to get Isaac out of the police station, I'm stuck here playing Gothic Hunter Daughter clad all in black and eavesdropping on the mission I'm going to have to find some way to weasel my way out of. Allison wanders into the living room where I'm sitting and gives me a questioning look, but I only nod at the door to the parlor and continue to watch the minutes tick by.

_"Gerard, we don't have proof that he did it."_

"Really, Chris? if the police have enough evidence, then so do we."

_"Roy, stay out of this."_

_"Let the man speak, Chris."_

Allison approaches the cracked open door and starts to listen in on the conversation between our fathers and her grandfather.

_"But I have to admit, it could have also been another omega like that homeless man. The omegas are going to start flooding into this town like cockroaches as soon as word gets out about Derek Hale."_

_"All the more reason to eliminate the threat now, before its pack grows."_

_"That's not how this works! We don't kill children!"_

_"And what are you going to do to stop us?"_

Roy's voice is cold, making chills run down my arms as I consider what he's fighting for. He's fighting to have Isaac killed. My pack mate. I feel my canines start to extend and I grit my teeth, taking a steadying breath. Allison gives me a warning look, and I can only assume that means my eyes are shining blue. Trying to calm myself down, I stand up and march to a window, cracking it open to breathe some fresh air.

_"You would have your own daughter come with us to kill a teenager?"_

_"Don't be stupid. Conner's going to sit this one out, but we're still going through with it."_

_"Your wife will have the last word, Chris."_

_"Gerard-"_

_"Chris, that is final."_

I grip the windowsill and take deep breaths as I hear footsteps march out of the parlor and into the living room. Allison walks up next to me and touches my arm, a concerned look on her face. Scott explained the general situation to her (werewolf pretending to be hunter in training), though I'm not sure how up to speed she is on my current pack situation. Then again, last I heard, she and Scott weren't supposed to be seeing each other anymore, but Scott had been at the Argents' funeral (watching from a distance) and right now, she smells like him. Secret dating? My instincts say yes.

The human contact is enough to bring me back to earth, and with a shake of my head, I feel my facial features returning to normal. Even after working out and swimming for a total of four hours, my wolf side is as difficult to suppress as it was when I got up this morning, if not worse.

"You okay?" she asks. She genuinely seems worried, and I can only assume that the reason is because we all had a near-death experience the other night. I nod just as Roy walks up to us, a serious look on his face.

"Let's go kiddo," he says, nodding at me. "Gotta take you home."

I'm forced to act surprised and mildly disappointed. "Why?" I ask. "Wasn't I supposed to go with you all today?"

"It's the full moon," he reminds me. I nearly laugh in his face: No shit, Sherlock. The wolf inside me dying to claw its way out is no indication at all. Sweat breaks out on my forehead, and I roughly wipe it off on my sleeve. It's not particularly hot, but my body's running a little warmer than normal today. "We have to think that every werewolf in town could be out tonight. I can't risk you going out when you haven't even-"

"Oh let the girl come along if she wants to," Gerard chastises, giving me a quick wink. "She's old enough."

"But not experienced enough," Roy states firmly. He puts a hand on my shoulder and steers me towards the front door. "I'm taking you home."

"But I drove here," I point out.

"I'll take you anyway," he insists. I give Allison a meaningful look and she nods minutely when her father and grandfather's backs are turned, assuring me that she understands. I let Roy lead me outside before slipping out of his hold, pulling my car keys out of my pocket.

"Call me later and let me know how it goes," I say, walking to my truck. He grabs my arm softly, stopping me.

"Are you sure you're going to be alright?" he asks. "It's your first full moon, and-"

"Roy, I'm fine," I interrupt, probably more gruffly than I should have. I take a deep breath and try again. "I'm just going to go home and lock myself in for the night."

"I don't think that's going to be enough," he presses. "Let me help, at least this one time."

"The best help right now would be to maybe try and stop the Argents from starting a body count in the name of revenge disguised as necessary measures rather than encouraging them." I can't stop myself from verbally lashing out, and curse under my breath once the words are out. He's risking his life keeping me safe, and here I am, arguing. He looks like I've slapped him, and I can only assume that he didn't expect me to be listening in on the conversation, or to call him out on it. After a second he composes his face and runs a hand through his hair, looking away.

"Roy, I'm so-"

"It's fine," he says calmly, stepping back. "This job doesn't come without its obstacles. I'm sure that, in time, I'll be able to make you understand." He gives me a half-smile and walks back to the front door. "Call me if you need anything."

Feeling like the worst daughter in the world, I drop my head back and groan, letting the sick feeling set in. Since when have I been so bad with words? Since forever most likely, but that damn full moon in the sky doesn't help much, either. Grumbling to myself, I cross the road to where I left my truck, pulling my zip-up hoodie closer to myself. I kick the front tire of my truck, not accomplishing anything other than hurting my toe. After cursing the god of all tires and my stupidity for kicking the tire in the first place, I start to unlock the door. Stiles said that he would find a way to get Isaac out of the cell, but in the meantime, I need to find some way to subdue myself before everyone has two newborn betas to worry about.

I stop when I hear footsteps approaching. Allison runs up to me, now wearing a jacket and holding a black plastic case, much like the one I store my gun in, only much longer. She has a determined look on her face, and holds her cellphone up for me to see when she stops.

**Stiles:**

_Scott at Isaac's house. Derek and I en route to police station. He says to get Conner here?_

I raise a brow at her, waiting for her to elaborate on the plan. "Scott needs me at Isaac's house, but I'll drop you off at the police station after we take care of the hunter," she explains, taking my keys away and leading me to her car. I hesitatingly follow, not sure how good of an idea this is. "The hunter is disguised as a deputy, but he's in one of the SUV's, so it should be no problem finding him. You in?"

I look back at my truck, heave a sigh, and shrug. "Why not?"

* * *

.

.

.

A couple of years ago, back when my mom was still alive, I remember she took the whole family to a beach. We had to drive all night so by the time we arrived I was exhausted and fell asleep on my towel. An hour later the blazing sun burning my back woke me up, and I was nursing a bad sunburn for a week.

A similar burning sensation, along with the feeling of something hard pressing into my back, is what wakes me up in the morning. The early morning sun is almost blinding as I open my eyes with a groan, the feeling of my overheated skin making my body a very uncomfortable place to be in. I immediately know I'm not alone when I feel something made out of fabric drape over me, covering me like a blanket. Blinking through my sleepy tears, I look up, half-expecting it to be Roy or Stiles waking me up because they need me to do something, like fix the air conditioning, for one.

No, it's Derek. He looks beat, his clothes covered in dirt and his shirt splattered with blood. "What happened to you?" I ask in a slur, then frown. I slowly start taking in details, such as the fact that there's open sky behind him, and not the walls of my apartment; that it's morning, easily ten o'clock, and I'm waking up on a very hard surface; that as a breeze blows under what I now realize is a fireman's blanket, I feel my body completely naked underneath. Just to be sure, I look under the blanket. Surely enough, the only covering I have on me is a light layer of dust, mud caked all the way up to my knees, and dried blood flaking off of my chest.

"Don't remember much, do you?" Derek says tiredly, watching me in case I lose it. Gripping the blanket close to me, I sit up and look around, feeling my stomach drop as I take in my surroundings. I was sleeping on a flat rock on the edge of a cliff, the forest in front of me and a view of Beacon Hills to my back. I've never been here before, but a part of me assures me I became well acquainted with this area last night.

Last night-!

"Holy shit, the full moon!" I exclaim, slapping my forehead and groaning. "Isaac was arrested, and he was losing it!"

"He's fine, and he didn't hurt anyone," he assures me. "He's staying with me for the time being." Relief whooshes through me, and is quickly followed by other unanswered questions that could potentially lead to doom.

"And what about me?" I demand. "Did I hurt anybody?"

He hesitates to answer that. "Not... permanently," he says carefully. My stomach sinks and I groan, dropping my head into my hands. He kneels in front of me and I peek through my fingers at him, almost scared to hear what else he has to say. "You really don't remember?" he presses. I shake my head. "Give it some time."

"Can't you just tell me?" I ask quietly.

"No," he answers. "Last night, you lost control and almost killed somebody." My eyes widen, but he doesn't stop. "You need to remember everything about what happened, because the way you lost control? It was unlike anything I've seen before."

"What do you mean?" I insist. He sighs, and worried he's going to close the subject, I grab his hand with both of mine. He tenses, but doesn't fight the action. "Derek..."

"You didn't lose control like a wolf would," he finally replies, his voice quiet. His eyes are focused on the area above my head, and when I look down, I notice that the blanket has slowly been falling off my shoulder. For his sake I pull it back up, covering myself again. "You looked more like... a hunter than a wolf."

And just like that, I remember.

_Two minutes after Allison dropped me off at the police station, my gun is strewn across the floor, a clawed hand is around my neck, and a shaken Stiles is hiding behind a desk opposite Isaac and me, and I'm realizing why this was not a good idea._

_The wolf inside of me has been fighting to get free, the promise of complete freedom and power making it more and more difficult to resist. Even now, when I feel my life slipping away I fight it, knowing that if I give in, I could very well kill him. __But as shadows start to blur my vision, I feel my control slip. Isaac's yellow eyes glare murderously at me as he roars, and spurred on by the fighting sound, the last grasp on humanity fades away to the wolf inside. I roar back, my blue eyes, the extended ears, and the snarling face reflected in his eyes before I grab his face and dig my claws into it, eliciting a howl from him. Taking advantage of the opening, I latch onto the bars of the cell he's holding me against, lift one of my legs and drop kick him with all the strength I can muster, which apparently is a lot, because I distantly hear a crack._

_He stumbles back with a yelp, grabbing his shoulder in pain. I don't waste a second before kicking him in the face with my other leg, knocking him backwards. Blood splatters from the impact, but when I drop down to the ground and approach him, I don't hold back when I plant my foot firmly against his neck. He grabs my ankle and twists it, but I spin in the same direction, minimizing the damage as I fall to the ground. Before he can grasp at the window of opportunity, I drop my foot swiftly onto his chest, winding him enough that he releases my foot. As calmly as if I'm doing the dishes, I get to my knees ans grab my gun off the floor, focusing my eyes on the part of his neck that his jugular beats in. Cocking my head to the side, I point the gun and bare my fangs, ready to shoot for the kill._

_In a blur of fur and claws Derek grabs me by the collar of my jacket and throws me back against the wall, freeing Isaac. I slide to the ground, pieces of plaster cascading over me once I'm sitting, but I hardly notice them. All I can seem to pay any attention to is my irritation at having my kill taken away from me, by an Alpha, no less! Doesn't he know that with one perfectly-planned move, I could take his little throne away? All that power could be gone in an instant!_

_Derek takes a look at Isaac, who is now very much human and not a danger to anybody. Convinced he's not a threat, Derek turns to me, his red eyes glaring warningly at me. I bare my teeth disrespectfully and growl, daring him to try and do something. He roars in my face, but I only smirk, completely unaffected. My mother was a true Alpha. This guy? I've only been a true beta again for a couple of days, and I'm more experienced at being a beta than he is at being an Alpha, so while during normal circumstances I care for and desire him, right now, he only offends me by even believing himself to be an obstacle. Seeing an opening for escape, I bolt for the door, ducking under his claws, around Isaac, and past Stiles into the hallway._

_I continue to run, not stopping even when I've left the police station and have somehow managed to reach the forest. I weave between trees and through rivers, following different trails and scents as it suits me, never staying in any place too long or actually attacking anything. Except, okay, maybe that one rabbit... But still, it's all about the chase. At one point I imagine that there are no cities or roads to avoid and simply endless forests and mountains for me to venture in, connecting with nature and the universe in a way that's been lost over the centuries. I long for that, crave that, and that's why I shut off the nagging voice reminding me that I have a human life to get back to, and that I should maybe be more careful with my clothes._

_As the full moon hours start to end, I feel the rush of energy start to leave, and grudgingly I accept that maybe I shouldn't be running so much anymore. I need to slow down, maybe find someplace to seek shelter. A cliff catches my attention, and listening carefully for any sign that I may not be alone after all, I crawl up the ridge until I'm at the edge. The cliff overlooks the forest and the city in the distance, and even in my wolf form, I can't help noticing how pretty the orange lights look under the night sky. I curl my legs up to my chest and rest my head on my arms so that I can still look over the city, listening to every wayward sound that drifts up here. The sound of a car horn honking, someone shouting somebody's name, police sirens..._

_What a beautiful song Beacon Hills makes._

The words and memory are like a slap to the face, and when I look up at him, he's looking at me again. "I don't know what to do with that," he informs me quietly. Hell, I can't blame him: I don't know what to do with this information myself! I should have lost control animalistically, but instead of going for the fight, I went for the emotionless kill, at the hands of a gun, no less. I've been shooting guns since I was very young, but still, the wolf instinct is supposed to be more deep-rooted than any acquired skill. So why the hell did I react that way?!

"I'll look into it," I whisper uncomfortably. "Maybe Peter only unlocked part of what my mother suppressed." Figuring the best course of action would be to get out of this area, I get to my feet, scanning the area to get my bearings. He follows, standing close to me protectively. I close my eyes for a moment to try and remember which direction I came from, and when I open my eyes, a gap between the trees seems familiar. Confidently I start towards that spot, not bothering to be too careful with where my feet step. They cake of mud is so thick, I'm pretty sure I'll be protected from anything.

Okay, not really, but still, foot care is the least of my priorities.

It's only when I've been walking for about a minute when I notice that Derek isn't walking next to me anymore. I stop and look back at where he is, just in time to notice the reason he's hanging back several feet behind me. I laugh as his expression becomes serious, but I can see right through him.

"Derek Hale, are you checking me out?" I ask, wrapping the blanket around my chest like a towel. "Because you seem awfully quiet back there."

Rather than deny it like I expected him to, he strides forward and shrugs. "And if I was?" he asks casually. My heart skips but I keep the surprise off of my face, smiling slowly and holding my ground as he moves forward.

"I'd say you were a terrible person, taking advantage of my current state," I answer quietly. "And the fact that you're an Alpha."

"Does it bother you?" he asks, his voice husky as he stops only inches away. I cock my head to the side, observing him carefully. He isn't being affectionate, this is simply attraction. The real question is if it's enough for me?

"... No, it doesn't bother me," I reply. "But I do think we need to get back to Isaac. Things are about to change for him, and we need a plan."

The disappointment flashes almost unperceivably through his eyes, but I stand firm. We only just started the pack, and a purely physical relationship right now would be unwise. I know myself, and I know how I feel for him, and unfortunately, it's not just physical. So, I need to keep calm, and not allow myself to give in to something I'll regret later on.

At first he seems fine with it and we start walking, but then he stops. "So, it's fine for you to kiss me when I rescue you," he starts, "but if I spend all night tracking you down, I'm left high and dry?"

I roll my eyes and keep walking, but he grabs my wrist and pulls me back. "What doyou want me to say?" I ask. "That I like you as more than my Alpha?" I scoff and shake my head. "You already know that."

"I didnt know that," he states. I shrug. "So, your normal way of saying thanks has changed?"

I raise a brow. "Are you going to complain if it hasn't?"

"Not really."

Men!

Giving up on the argument, I grab the front of his shirt and pull him towards me, lifting myself up on my tiptoes. He wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me against him, eyes dark as he waits for me to close the space. With a smile I lean up and place a kiss softly on his cheek.

"There you go."

Before I can pull away he locks a hand behind my neck and holds me in place, crashing his lips over mine. Caught by surprise I take a moment to kiss him back, and even then the sensation is overwhelming. I feel a hunger building up inside me that is comparable only in part to the need to shift last night. Just as I'm tangling my hands in his hair, he breaks the kiss and releases me. We're both left slightly breathless, and with a nod, we both step away from each other.

"Thanks," I mutter.

"You're welcome," he replies, looking away.

And, for once, however brief the moment, we're able to stop being wolves, alphas, betas, omegas, and simply be people.

* * *

**Post-Chapter Note:**

**Next chapter there is going to be plenty of action: some of you guys mentioned Erica, and so we'll be bringing her into the story ;) What do you think Conner's strange transformation means? And plenty of Isaac, because I really love him! Yup, pack stuff coming up... Review :)?**


	15. A Complete Pack

**Author's Note:**

**Hey all, sorry for the delay! Just transferred to a new college, and the workload is much heavier, taking away from writing time. Even so, I hope you all wink at the blue moon tonight, and enjoy this chapter. I entered the Teen Wolf Fanfiction contest, so, let's see if a writer gets to meet the writers of Teen Wolf!**

**Take care all, and have a great weekend!**

* * *

"Alright, steady," I warn as I settle down onto Isaac's shoulders. A yelp escapes me as he swiftly stands up, the action apparently effortless on his part. "Don't drop me!" I exclaim, scrambling to hold onto the wall to keep from losing my balance. Even if I can only see the top of his head, I can practically picture him rolling his eyes as he squeezes my shins, reminding me that he has a tight hold on me.

"Just fix the pipe Boss, I won't let you fall," he reassures me. "God forbid a hair fall out of place."

"Ha, the boy can be sarcastic!" I say with a laugh, but do as he says and start twisting the bolt onto the pipe we installed the day before in the tiled wall. We're in Derek's haunt, an abandoned underground rail station of sorts, and we're currently working on a project in what must have been a bathroom back when this place was operational. He's wearing a faded pair of jeans and a t-shirt that has holes in it while I've opted to stick with shorts and a sports bra. No need to ruin any more shirts than I already have this week. Once I have the bolt in place, I start to twist on the shower head I bought at Home Depot this morning.

"Alright, turn on the water," I order cautiously. He walks to the side so that the shower head isn't aiming at us and slowly reaches forward, turning it on. In a second water starts to pour out of the shower heat in a uniform spray, and I cheer excitedly. "We did it, Isaac! We made a-!"

I'm cut off by a jet of water shooting out of the bolt and hitting me square in the face. Shielding my face I cough the water out, but the pressure only increases. "Isaac, the wrench!" I shriek, water cascading over my body. I hold the wall for support as he shifts to pull the wrench off of his belt, blindly holding it up to me as he also turns away from the water. He holds on to my legs tightly as I stretch towards the water and feel for the bolt. It takes a firm push, but I'm able to tighten the bolt enough, and the wayward stream is blocked.

For a moment we're silent, waiting just in case the shower decides to malfunction again, but it doesn't. "Did it work?" Isaac asks after a couple of seconds, still tensed just in case. I grin and throw my arms in the air in a fist pump.

"We now have a shower!" I declare. Isaac laughs and shakes his head at my enthusiasm. Unfortunately, my cheering coupled with the water covering both of us makes for a very bad combination when it comes to me keeping stable, and it's no time before I feel myself lose balance. I squeak as I feel myself falling backward and my legs slipping out of Isaac's grip, then brace myself for impact. He turns around and tries to catch me, but the slippery floor is our undoing and the two of us go tumbling down to the tile floor in a werewolf pile.

When I open my eyes, I see that I'm laying across his stomach, one of my legs is hitched up and hooked around the knee with his, and one of his hands is holding onto my waist for dear life. I feel ice cold water falling onto my back, and figure that the shower must still be running. I lift my head and our gazes meet, and at the same time we both start laughing. How many betas does it take to install a shower head? Apparently it should take more than two, because we're both a mess.

"Good think for our awesome werewolf reflexes, huh?" I joke, dropping my head against his chest. He lets out a chuckle and lays an arm across his face.

"Thank God Derek wasn't here to-"

The sound of a very familiar person clearing his throat alerts us both that we are not alone. Immediately Issac and I scramble away from each other and shoot to our feet, turning to face the door. Derek is standing there with his arms crossed and a brow raised expectantly as we stand under the stream of water from the shower head.

"We, uh, we made a shower," Isaac explains quickly, lowering his gaze and scratching the back of his head. I quickly turn off the water and shrug.

"There were technical difficulties, but we have the water set up," I add. "All we need is a curtain, but that can wait. You guys aren't too big on privacy."

"Actually..." Derek trails off and motions to something beyond the door that we can't see. "... You might want to get that curtain set up." A figure comes up next to Derek, and he drapes an arm over its shoulders intimately. "I want you two to meet your newest pack mate."

She's a twitchy, nervous little thing with dry, frizzy blond hair and a scabbed face. She's a decent height for a werewolf, but her body type is hidden underneath a tattered over-sized sweatshirt and a torn pair of jeans. Her head is hunched over and she looks up at us nervously, her eyes flitting between Isaac and me like she doesn't know what to make of us. She leans instinctively into Derek's side, which is normal for a beta when they don't know anyone else. We tend to seek an Alpha.

"Conner, Isaac, this is Erica Reyes," he says. "Erica, this is your pack. Isaac is the newest addition besides you, and Conner is in charge of half of your training."

"Which is which?" she asks quietly. Isaac snorts and I roll my eyes, shoving him on the shoulder. Yeah, I got bothered in school for having a common boy's name. It happens.

"Be nice, Isaac," I scold. With a smile I step forward, extending my hand. "I'm Conner Fitz. It's great to have another girl around."

"I've heard of you," she admits, then seems to regret it a second later. "I'm sorry."

"Either you've heard that I walk around with a gun on me at all times, or you've heard that my family left," I say with a shrug. "Both of which are true. At some point we'll talk about it." I gesture at Isaac with a thumb. "You two get acquainted while I talk with our Alpha, okay?" She looks up at Derek questioningly and he nods, giving her permission. "Isaac, there should be a shower rod in the supplies closet and some tarp that we could use as a curtain for now. Set it up?" Isaac waves his hand and leads Erica to the supplies closet, the two starting to exchange basic information.

Derek, a serious look on his face, leads me to one of the train cars. There have to be about three to five, but I've only been in the one Isaac sleeps in to wake him up. I slide open the door and climb inside, taking a look around. This must be the car Derek sleeps in. The seats have all been taken out, making room for a large mattress in the corner. It's been made and there's a generator next to it, most likely for emergency situations and the like. I stop in the middle of the car and turn to face him, crossing my arms.

"Okay, time to explain," I prompt, looking up at him. I'm barefooted and he already naturally naturally towers over me, so I set my jaw and keep my stance strong to make up for my lack of height. He sighs. "Who is she, where did you find her, and why did you bite her now?"

"She's an epileptic from Scott's gym class," Derek explains, though his expression makes it clear that he feels no obligation to share, and is simply entertaining me. "I saw an opportunity and offered her the Bite in the hospital."

"As a cure for her epilepsy?" I clarify.

"For everything."

I groan and lean against the car wall. "You know that technique isn't going to work for long," I say. "If you're going to offer someone anything, you should be offering them a family and empowerment, not simply power."

"I thought you would be happy that the pack is growing," he argues.

"I'm more than happy to welcome any betas you bring here, believe me." I wave in the direction Erica and Isaac are in. "But in order to have a pack, and not simply run a werewolf factory, its members need to be loyal," I state. "If you want them to be loyal to you, you need to offer them something lasting, something more than power, or else the moment they stop feeling indebted to you, they'll leave, and gaining that kind of loyalty takes time."

He smiles to himself, as if from an inside joke. "Believe me, I don't think she'll be leaving any time soon." I narrow my eyes at him and decide that I don't like the direction this conversation is taking. Whenever his arrogance starts to show, my attraction for him is replaced with a need to physically hurt him, and that would not be a good first impression with Erica, nor a good example for Isaac.

"I'm going to go check on Isaac and take Erica out," I announce uncomfortably, making my way to the door. "I might remember a trick or two from Susan to give the girl a makeover to go with the Bite." As I grip the door handle, he grabs my arm, stopping me.

"You've been spending a lot of time with Isaac," he comments.

"I don't need to remind you that he's been through a lot. I'm just trying to help him stay busy." I smile. "He seems much more confident now, doesn't he?"

"Why was he on your list?" he asks. I raise my brows and look out the window. Isaac and Erica are starting to set up the shower curtain rail.

"Our brothers used to be friends," I reply slowly. "We were elementary school friends, and we were also kinda close in middle school." I shrug. "When he lost his older brother, it was hard for him. I'd lost my mom, so we understood each other. When I got to high school he was still in middle school, so we didn't see each other as much, though we ran into each other every now and then." I frown, looking up at him. "Why are you asking this now? I made that list years ago."

"Like you said, it's important to keep a pack." He also looks out the window. "I just want to make sure you're not sending mixed signals."

"What, with Isaac?" I can't help but snort in a very unladylike fashion, and shake my head. "Nah, it's not like that. I'm just trying to make him feel wanted."

"In more ways than one?"

"You know what I mean." He doesn't seem to know what I mean, because his expression doesn't crack in the least. I glare challengingly up at him. "What, are you worried I'm gonna fall for Isaac?"

"We can't afford to have anyone falling in love right now," he states. I smirk.

"Who said we were talking about falling in love?" I shrug a shoulder. "If what happened in the woods really wasn't more than physical, then you wouldn't mind if I just so happened to _entertain _myself elsewhere, would you?" When he only glares, I laugh and drag open the door without saying another word, figuring it's best to leave him alone. We haven't talked about the kiss in the woods the other day yet, but he's commented on several occasions that the full moon hit him pretty hard this month, the heavy subtext implying that it was the only reason that what happened happened. Which, of course, pisses me off, because I just want him to get over his issues already.

Hell, at this point, I'll take what I can get.

"Erica!" I call, waving a hand. A second later she scurries out of the bathroom, a guilty look on her face. Isaac follows, avoiding my gaze. Ah, eavesdroppers. I jerk my thumb in the direction of the underground parking lot where Derek and I park our cars. "Come on, we're going out." I smile apologetically at Isaac. "Sorry, girls only." He holds up his hands to show that he doesn't mind and I grin, throwing my arm over Erica's shoulders. At first she tenses, but only a second later I feel her arm shyly go around my waist. Good, her instincts are setting in. We're very physical creatures. "Perfect. Have fun with our grumpy Alpha!" I call over my shoulder, leading her down the hall. We both hear Isaac curse under his breath and Erica giggles, then looks up at me.

"So, where are we going?" she asks. I squeeze her shoulders and lean closer confidentially.

"Isn't it obvious?" I ask. "You've got yourself a new lease on life. We're going shopping."

* * *

Shopping with Erica turned out to be surprisingly entertaining. We bought her a new wardrobe- one that was far more daring and flattering than her sweatshirts and baggy pants- and then I took her to my apartment, where I worked on her hair. We were able to tame the frizzy mess into a gorgeous mass of loose blond curls, just as I'd seen Susan do with one of my little sisters. Appearance-wise, Erica has done a 180-degree change, but that's not all. She's a pretty cool chick once you loosen her up a bit, although it's clear that it's easier to loosen up now that she's been turned. With every hour that passed she seemed to get more and more confident, laughing and smiling more freely and holding her head higher.

The transformations Isaac and her are making? These are the kind of transformations that make me happy, although it's important to make sure that the baby betas don't become too arrogant. Isaac keeps himself in line for the most part, and I like Erica, but I have this rising feeling in the back of my mind that she's going to need to be monitored closely for a little while to make sure she doesn't do anything stupid. It wouldn't be the first time a newly turned werewolf did something crazy while drunk with the power, and that's why it's not always such a good idea to make a pack from one day to the next. But, what's done is done, and now our pack is complete.

Right now, however, I push thoughts of the pack to the side, and focus on work. Jessie isn't here today, but luckily one of our regular bands is, and I know they'll do their job just as well as they always do. They always count on a hefty tip from customers and Stacey. While I'd been out with Erica yesterday I'd bought a dress- I'm running out of "slutty" clothes-, and I can't help feeling somewhat embarrassed by the stares. It's nothing out of this world, just a modest jean skirt and a black polo, but apparently it's making me stand out. Something about a girl showing her knees merits attention, apparently.

Either way, I'm relieved when I'm finally able to leave work. The band invites me to a 24-hour coffee house and so we drive over there in our individual cars. Normally I'd go check on the pack, but today is supposed to be a calm day, so I figure I'll take advantage of the opportunity for a change of scenery. It's sometimes easy to forget that I had a life before Derek. We all order coffee and croissants, and as the drummer and guitarist rush to grab a booth, the singer, Michael, hangs back to talk, a smile on his face.

"So, I heard about you and Heath," he begins. I laugh and roll my eyes; word travels fast in Stacey's. "Is it true, that you went and beat Linda up?"

"Michael, come on," I say, punching his arm softly. "You know those are just rumors."

He snaps his fingers. "Darn," he says jokingly. "Here I was, getting my hopes up for a cat fight." He wraps an arm over my shoulder and squeezes me into his side warmly. "You okay?" he asks, more seriousness in the question than in his other statements. I consider it for a moment and nod.

"Yeah," I answer sincerely. He grins.

"Keeping yourself distracted?"

Catching onto his double meaning, I smirk. "Maybe." He barks a laugh and we join the rest of the band to drink coffee. Not even five minutes later I get a text message from Stiles, and as I'm laughing at a joke that the drummer makes, I read it.

**Stiles:**

_Pick me up? _

I write a quick reply asking what happened. He answers within the minute.

_Erica showed up and broke my Jeep. 1254 Oak Street._

The smile leaves my face and I stand up, blurting out some excuse about my cousin before grabbing my keys and hurrying out. Yeah, I know the street, but what the hell is Stiles doing there? And why would Erica sabotage Stiles? She'd told me during the shopping spree that she'd actually had a crush on him for years, so why-?

Derek.

I growl as I pull my keys out of my pocket. There's only one reason he'd send Erica after Stiles (because he was interfering), and there's only one reason Stiles would put himself in Derek's way: to protect somebody. Which all means that there's going to be hell in the train station later.

In the parking lot, I'm surprised to find Gerard standing by my truck, a pleasant smile on his face. I force myself to smile back as alarms blare warningly in my head, urging me to get the hell away from him. "Gerard! What are you doing out here?" I ask with polite surprise. He gestures at my truck.

"I was just passing through and saw that you were here," he replies. "Thought I'd say hello."

"I'm so sorry you pulled over just as I was leaving," I say apologetically, holding up my phone. "I have to go pick somebody up."

"Isaac Lahey?"

I feel my stomach turn, but shake my head slowly, forcing a blank look onto my face. "No, Stiles," I answer. "Apparently his Jeep broke down." I frown. "Why would you think I was helping Isaac? Isn't he wanted? And a werewolf?"

"You see, I found some very interesting information when speaking to the Sheriff this morning," he begins, crossing his arms and fixing those perceptive eyes on me. Translation, he stole the police report, because the Sheriff would never give out confidential evidence. I concentrate on keeping my face composed in a mildly confused expression. "He says that Isaac told him he was with you the night his father got killed."

I nod in confirmation. "Yeah, he showed up when I was leaving work," I explain smoothly. I'd already talked to the Sheriff the other day, so the stories match. "I'm taking a chemistry class online, so I was helping him study. I really had no idea he'd been turned."

"Yes, it's an acquired skill, spotting who's one of the beasts and who isn't," he assures me. I feel my heart nearly stop, but he continues as if he hasn't noticed. "Which is why Roy and I are having something of a disagreement. He insists we need to postpone your training, what with Derek Hale starting his pack and the new betas on the loose." He cocks his head to the side and smiles conspiratorially at me. "I, on the other hand, think this is the perfect opportunity. You were close to him for a while, were you not?"

"He doesn't trust me anymore," I remind him, trying to show disappointment. "Even if I helped take down the Alpha, I'm a hunter's daughter, and a traitor."

"That's why I want to train you," he insists. "He let you in once, and you have a friendly relationship with Isaac Lahey. With the proper incentive, Derek can trust you again."

I sigh and run a hand through my hair. Dammit, this is starting to get complicated, and I need to get to Stiles to find out what the hell's happening with my pack. "If you feel that way, I'm all for it," I surrender. "Honestly, I think you overestimate me, though."

"Oh Conner, I think you'd be surprised what you're capable of with the right push," he states, walking past me. He squeezes my arm as he passes by, and it's everything not to brace myself for attack. "I'll talk to Roy."

I wait until he's gotten into his car and driven away before I jump into my truck, cursing quietly. This is great, just great! Now I have Gerard following me, not to mention whoever else he might have tailing me. He has to know, he just has to! I take a deep breath and drive quickly to the address Stiles gave me, remembering the route from when I first learned how to drive with my brothers. I arrive at the house quickly and find Stiles with his Jeep parked a little down the road from the house he texted to me, the hood open as he leans over it, trying to fix it with the light of his cell phone. I park behind him so that my truck's headlights are aimed at the front of the Jeep and step out, making my way over.

"What happened?" I ask, looking over his shoulder to assess the damage. He holds up a car piece, a furious look on his face. "That looks important. Want me to call a tow truck?"

"Nah, I can fix it," he mutters, leaning under the hood again. "I found it in a bush like a minute ago. Shouldn't take too long."

"So, what happened?" I press. "With Erica. What's going on?"

"Well, for starters, Derek turned her," he begins, grunting as he twists something into place. "You'd think after what happened with Isaac, he'd know better."

"Isaac didn't kill his dad," I state, putting an end to that assumption immediately. "It was something else."

"Yeah, that lizard thing Scott talked about," he says. "There's that theory."

"Lizard thing?" I repeat. He nods.

"Yeah, it showed up the night of the full moon," he explains. "Scot and Allison saw it. Know what it is?"

I shake my head. "I'd have to see it for myself, and have more details. My pack mostly kept to themselves, and what I do know about, I learned from reading," I answer. "And why did Erica wreck your Jeep?"

He barks a laugh. "Turns out Derek wants to turn the whole high school population into werewolves," Stiles replies. "Scott and I split up to look for Boyd, and Erica showed up, hit on me, broke my Jeep, and then knocked me out." He turns to me then, a pained look on his face. "Have any aspirin?"

I shake my head slowly. "Wolf healing, not too many headaches," I murmur. Derek is trying to change _another _beta? I thought the pack was complete. "Who's Boyd?"

"This guy that works at the ice skating arena," he explains. "Scott says he was bitten already." He groans. "Dammit, I can't get this thing in-" I ball my fist and bring it down on the part, knocking it into place. He raises his brows. "That would work." Just to make sure, he circles the Jeep and turns on the ignition. Surely enough, the Jeep roars to life. "Bless you and your werewolf strength."

I grin and flex my bicep playfully. "Gonna need these to go kick Derek's ass now," I inform him with a smile, but keeping a serious undertone.

"So, you're not in the loop with Derek's biting fest?" Stiles clarifies. I shake my head.

"I only find out afterwards," I admit, shrugging. "It's my job to make sure the baby betas stay in line, and it's a handful enough with only Isaac and Erica."

"Can I fire you, then?"

I laugh, shaking my head. "Let me beat Derek up first," I say jokingly.

"In that outfit?"

I shrug. His eyes glaze over as he pictures the fight, and nods. "Have I mentioned you're my favorite werewolf yet?" he asks. I ruffle his hair and give him a quick kiss on the cheek before walking back to my truck.

"And you're my favorite human," I answer sincerely. Although, really, at the pace Derek's going, there won't be many humans left to measure him up to anymore.

* * *

"Dammit, how long am I gonna be sore for?" Erica muttered, rolling her shoulder. Isaac cracked his neck and shrugged.

"Just give it a little while more," he urged. "You'll be fine by tomorrow." She groaned and he couldn't help but laugh. When he first started training with Derek and the Alpha left Conner to clean up the mess, she'd laughed and thrown him a bottle of water. "You don't cry in a fight," she'd told him. "You cry in bed, or in a pack mate's arms. Preferably both." He wondered what she would tell Erica if she heard her complaining that her fast healing wasn't healing fast enough. He'd seen the scars still left on her hand from some sort of burn, as well as the thin claw mark scars on her back. If she hadn't been able to heal from those wounds, they must have been painful. He had a feeling she would tell Erica to suck it up. That, or comfort her like a doting mother. It really depended on the girl's mood. Either way, she was starting to become something of an authority figure in the pack.

Well, not more of an authority than Derek, obviously. He'd had them go behind Conner's back and against her advice, and they'd all been there when he'd turned Boyd. Another pack mate. It was exciting, but though it wasn't being said out loud, he knew that he wasn't the only one a little paranoid about what would happen when Conner found out. From what he gathered, she wanted a pack, but she wanted it to gradually grow. Whatever kind of relationship Derek had with her (neither would give a clear explanation, and he didn't dare outright ask yet), Isaac had a feeling that what happened tonight wasn't going to help.

But she didn't show up. Even after they took Erica home and returned to the train station, they lingered around, waiting to no avail. It was three in the morning when they finally decided to go to sleep, and even then, Isaac couldn't find rest. He tossed and turned, jumping at the slightest sound, expecting it to be her, yet knowing that it wasn't. Before he knew it, it was six in the morning and Boyd and Erica were in the train station just as Derek had told them to be to meet Conner (she'd been showing up to train them early before work), but the she-wolf was missing. They waited for only ten minutes before Derek piled them into his car and drove to her street.

He parked in a neighboring apartment complex and they all jumped over the fence, listening for hunters. None were around, which was a relief, because it meant the hunters weren't on to her yet. Derek climbed up the tree that hung out by her window and Isaac followed, and the scene that greeted them was shocking enough that they almost fell off.

Conner lay in her bed- in only a bra and shorts, as always- with another teenager lying next to her. He was pale blond, and from what they could see he had a build similar to Isaac's, but very light-colored skin. The stranger's arm was draped over her waist and he was holding her close, as if they'd lain like that a million times before. Derek growled, though Isaac doubted it was voluntary, and in a second jumped down to the ground. Isaac followed, but by climbing. He didn't have his Alpha's reflexes, and quite frankly, he was shocked to see that Conner was sleeping with somebody. Was that Heath, the guy she'd mentioned once?

When he rejoined the pack, he was surprised to see that they weren't alone. His three pack mates were all turned, staring warily at a tall, lanky teenager with a thin face and scruffy blond hair. He looked sickly, but his eyes were alert as he looked straight at Derek. Apparently even humans could sense who was the Alpha in a pack.

"Get lost, kid," Derek snapped. He was irritable, and Isaac feared that if he lost control, he might shift. Hell, he knew he would if he caught his girlfriend cheating. Not that Conner was Derek's girlfriend, apparently. The kid was not intimidated by Derek's order, and coughed before raising a brow.

"You're Derek Hale," he stated, cocking his head to the side. "The new Alpha in town. I've been hearing rumors about you." He stepped forward and extended his hand to Derek. "I'm Keelan, Keelan Daniels." Erica and Boyd tensed, but Derek only looked the kid over carefully while Isaac made the connection: the kid looked very much like the one that had been in bed with Conner, enough so that they could be brothers. He faintly remembered her mentioning back in middle school that she had twin cousins, and it occurred to him that he hadn't had the chance to ask her about them yet. Were they werewolves? He had a feeling that this one wasn't. Derek didn't shake the offered hand and narrowed his eyes at the teen.

"The Daniels Pack?" Derek clarified. Realizing that Derek wasn't going to shake his hand, Keelan dropped it and stuffed it into his sweatshirt.

"I'm Conner's cousin," he explained calmly. "The person you most likely saw her with just now is my brother, also her cousin. There's no reason to be jealous, we're not that kind of family." Isaac couldn't help snorting when the kid so blatantly pointed out what Derek didn't want to admit. Derek glared at him and he immediately shut up.

"What do you want?" Derek asked. "Last I heard, you all up and left a year ago." Keelan nodded in confirmation.

"Yes, Uncle Steven took his children and wife and left," he agreed. "My mother was Aunt Leni's sister, however, and even if our father was Steven's brother, they're divorced and we've always kept in contact with her." He nodded up at the window. "Up until you showed up, we'd spend almost all of our weekends here. Then there were the Alpha attacks, and she asked us to stop coming. Things started going crazy in the pack, though, so we came here to hide out for the night. I just came down to introduce myself, since Conner mentioned you and your pack." He frowned, a thought occurring to him. "Why are you here? Jeremy's already part of a pack, and has no interest in changing."

"I came to speak to Conner," Derek answered, surprising all of his betas. They didn't know anything about him, so why was Derek answering his questions? A confused look crossed Keelan's face.

"Why?" he pressed. "She's human, and from the way she mentioned you earlier, she doesn't like you very much right now."

That time, both Erica and Isaac had to bite back laughter. Derek didn't even bother responding to them, and simply corrected him. "She's not human anymore." Keelan's eyes widened, and Derek went on. "And she's part of my pack."

The last part of his statement got an even stronger reaction out of Keelan: a laugh. "Are you kidding me?" he exclaimed, brow raised as he waited for Derek to say he was joking. When he didn't, the boy shook his head. "Wow, you really don't have a clue. She's a Daniels. She already has a pack."

"A pack that left her in the blink of an eye," Derek shot back. The possession in Derek's voice wasn't lost on Isaac. Keelan nodded.

"Yeah, trust me, it was a horrible thing to do, but you have no idea what the circumstances were," Keelan said, the smile still on his face. "Her real father tracked us down and demanded that the pack leave her so that she could live a human life until she turned eighteen, or else he would slaughter us all." He shrugged. "The threat was taken seriously by Steven, so the pack left. It's only ever been temporary. And now that she isn't human anymore, I'm sure Uncle Steven will be more than happy to welcome her back. There's no point in allowing her a human life if she isn't human."

"So you all knew about it?" Derek demanded. "Why did her mother even put the block in the first place?" Keelan raised a brow.

"Ignoring your holier than thou attitude, no, not everyone knew about the block Leni put on her," Keelan said. "Only my mother and recently myself. It was for her own good, and Leni had always planned to break it when she got older." He crossed his arms. "As for why, that's none of your business. Just know that if Roy was here when the block was broken, it was most likely no coincidence."

"It sounds like your big and bad pack is giving a lot of importance to one human," Erica commented tauntingly. Isaac sighed: she hadn't heard Conner's story yet, and clearly had no idea that their pack mate's father was a hunter. Keelan looked straight at her, his dark eyes almost pitying as he met her gaze.

"My pack doesn't listen to anybody, much less a human," he stated coldly, a dead contrast to the politeness he'd been directing at Derek. "The problem is that Roy Blackbird isn't human, and must not be underestimated." He looked back at Derek. "If you're really going to be her Alpha, do yourself a favor and take the advice she gives you." He took a step back, signaling the end of the discussion. "She knows what she's talking about, and the moment you slip up, we'll be waiting to take her back." He shook his head, walking away. "God knows we need her on our side."

Isaac sniffed, catching a whiff of the boy's scent. It didn't smell normal, and made him cough. "What is that?" he exclaimed once the boy was out of ear shot. Derek frowned, not looking at Isaac as he stared after Conner's cousin. "Was that him?"

"It's the smell of sickness," he answered, turning back in the direction they'd came. "He's dying." When the three of them made to follow him, he held up a hand and put it on Isaac's shoulder to stop him. "You stay here. Make sure she gets to the train station."

"What?" he exclaimed. The sun was just starting to come up, and he couldn't be seen by anyone who would call the authorities. Derek nodded.

"Yes, you heard me," he confirmed. He nodded at Boyd. "Stay with him."

"I have school," he argued. Derek raised his brows.

"Then ask her for a ride," he said, walking back to his car. "Chances are she'll cook you all breakfast and read you stories and sing a song."

"What's the big deal?" Isaac demanded. Tension filled the air, and he suddenly realized what he'd done: he'd spoken up to the Alpha for the first time. Taking a breath, he went on. "She took a day off to sleep in with family. Is that so wrong?"

"It is when she's choosing another pack," Derek stated, the threat clear in his voice.

"She isn't choosing another pack!" Isaac insisted. "She's—"

"Geez, I feel overly important." The pack looked up to see a bleary-eyed Conner leaning over the second floor railing, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes and yawning. "Is it training time already?"

"It's past training time," Derek informed her. She frowned and looked up at the sunrise.

"Well well, it seems the sun agrees with you," she murmured, then shrugged. "You guys want breakfast?"

"Yes," Isaac said immediately before Derek could object. He nodded at Boyd. "You have to try her cooking. It's amazing." Boyd looked back at Derek and Erica questioningly, and Erica stood between her pack mates and her Alpha awkwardly for a moment before moving closer to Derek. Shrugging, the boys made their way for the staircase to the second floor. Conner smiled at Erica.

"Come on, scrambled eggs aren't going to make him hate you," she assured the girl. Derek sighed inaudibly and started for the stairs as well. Conner waited for them in the hallway, motioning for the open door. "Go for it. Jeremy's whisking eggs, and Isaac is shredding cheese." She squeezed Erica's arm. "You pull out forks and all that." Erica nodded and hurried inside. It was strange how the shifters could be such serious, powerful creatures when focusing on work, but the moment Conner promised food, they were like little children eagerly following their parent's orders with the promise of a reward. Derek waited until the door closed behind Erica before turning to Conner. She hadn't even pulled a shirt on yet, and was still rubbing her eyes.

"Come on, out with it," she muttered with a sigh. "Your brow makes you look broody."

"Why didn't you show up to train the betas this morning?" he asked. She shrugged.

"I figured you'd show up here, and it would save me gas?" she tried. At his disapproving frown, she rolled her eyes. "Geez, cool it. It's like Keelan said: Jeremy was having some pack trouble and they showed up here to get away for the night."

"And you couldn't leave them in the house?"

"And you couldn't tell me you were planning to turn another beta?" she snapped.

"Is that what this is about?" Derek exclaimed. "Me not telling you?"

"No, this is me telling you that I'm going to stop trying so hard to help!" she corrected. "What are you going to do when the full moon comes and you have the four of us to deal with at the same time?" She barked a laugh. "Not to mention that _my _version of out of control is an assassin-like killer that likes to run naked through the forest! I've repeatedly tried to warn you that you're taking a big risk, but you don't want to listen to me." She crossed her arms and glared challengingly up at him. "So, I'm going to take it nice and easy. _You _carry the weight of however many new betas you want to make, your highness. Clearly you don't need me to help."

"Fine."

She was turning away, but stopped when he called after her. She frowned and looked back at him questioningly. "Fine what?" she asked warily.

"I won't turn anyone else," he grudgingly forced out. The surprise was clear in her face, and even more so in the fact that she didn't say anything for several seconds. "But this is your pack. It comes first, even before your old pack."

She smiled and nodded. "Of course," she said, laughing lightly. "Honestly, I just overslept." He didn't say anything, but she stepped forward and took his hand in hers, leading him to the front door. "Come on, even an Alpha has to eat." And, in spite of tension between Isaac and Derek, and the conversation with Keelan, the Pack and Conner's cousins managed to have a fairly normal morning making breakfast and eating in the small studio apartment. Amidst the laughter and the joking, Derek and Conner, both silently watching the young betas and Keelan, exchanged a look, and she smiled at him. Even if there were unresolved problems between them, there was something about the moment that made them finally feel like a pack, and Derek decided that he wasn't going to lie to her.

He would keep his word. The pack was already complete.

* * *

**Post-Chapter Note:**

**Soooo, what do you guys think of the pack dynamic...? There will be more of Erica next chapter, when their training actually starts, as well as... dun dun dunnnn... The Kanima! And why do you think Keelan and the Daniels pack are so worried about Roy? So, let me know what you thought, yes :)?**


	16. Just A Kiss

**Author's Note:**

**Okay guys, many apologies for the delay! School is mad intense over here! Either way, thanks so much for you many reviews, and I hope you continue to stick with this story :D! I'm already at work on the next chapter, and with midterms coming up, we all definitely need a bit of distraction, ha ha... Please let me know what you guys think!**

* * *

"Keelan, I just got to Derek's place," I assure my cousin through the phone, rolling my eyes at his concerned tone. He's gotten the general update of what's been going on- sans my crazy full-moon wolf persona and the fact that Derek and I are kind of a thing, while not being a thing at the same time- and has made it no secret that he wants me out of this town ASAP. Admittedly I found it funny at first that a fifteen-year-old was trying to tell me what to do, but after a while I started to take his concern to heart. Despite his age, Keelan has always displayed a certain maturity and calm when it comes to "disaster", and if he was worried, it wasn't something to be taken lightly.

But really, what can I do? Leave the pack? Sure, because that's really going to happen.

"Alright, call me when you go to work," he ordered firmly. "Do you work at the hospital or cafe today?"

"I had to quit my hospital job when I got the promotion," I remind him. "I'll call you, grandpa."

"Hardy har."

"Bye!"

As I hang up the phone, sounds of the betas already training reaches my ears, and I can't help but smile. The first couple of days Isaac was turned, I taught him basic self-defense techniques that could be employed without using claws- because, quite frankly, claws aren't the solution to everything- as well as the few weak points that could be attacked on a larger, stronger opponent. Judging by the grunting and crashing going on, my lessons haven't been of much help for the morning's attack-the-Alpha exercise. I walk up the tunnel from the parking garage as quietly as I can, not wanting to disturb the lesson.

Isaac makes a leap at Derek's side, and I wince as Derek grabs him by the shoulder and hair and hurls him into a pile of crates. I want to stand up for Isaac because Derek's being excessively rough with him, but if I do that, his pride might be hurt, so I stay quiet. He's been gaining admirable independence without losing his pack mentality, and that's good. It doesn't do much for his fighting skills, but hey, you win some, you lose some. Derek runs a hand through his hair in frustration, and advances on Isaac now sprawled across the floor. I can't help noticing Boyd, lurking in the background on a staircase, hasn't even broken a sweat, and that Erica is out of sight, but figure I'll ask about them later.

"Can't any of you do something not _entirely_ predictable?" he demands.

The words no sooner leave his mouth before a figure leaps out from behind a large pile of crates and latches onto his upper body. It only takes a second to distinguish Erica's mass of blond curls, and as soon as I do, she wraps her legs around his waist, grabs the back of his head, and kisses him fiercely. Isaac and Boyd both stare wide-eyed and Isaac immediately glances toward the entrance to the parking garage tunnel, gulping when he sees me standing and watching. I suppose my attire doesn't help calm him, either. I'm wearing the leather jacket Jackson gave me, a white tank top and high-heeled boots rather than the typical shorts and ratty t-shirt I normally wear for training. The occasion for the change was originally for entirely different purposes, but suddenly I'm glad I decided to dress to kill, because my message might not be as clear otherwise.

As I start marching over to the pair, I count the seconds off in my head. One. She presses her chest into his. Two. He grips her thighs and she rolls her hips. Right before I count to three, he growls and pushes her off of him, tossing her on the ground next to Isaac like a dirty towel. In my head I make a note to let him know just what would have happened if I'd reached three, but that will have to wait until later. I keep my eyes trained on my Alpha as Boyd, Isaac and now Erica—albeit with a hint of fear that the other two are lacking- watch attentively for what I'm going to do next.

Derek wipes his mouth and looks up just as I drop a hand on his bare arm and smile seductively. "Thanks for taking care of him for me while I was gone," I say to Erica while keeping my eyes trained on Derek. "I'll take it from here." Ignoring the question and wariness on his face, I lock my hands behind his neck and lean up, pressing my lips against his softly. In the background I hear Boyd and Isaac snicker and Erica curse at both of them, but I ignore them and focus my attention on the shoulders of the man I'm holding. The moment his muscles relax, I seize my opportunity and grip his wrist. One spinning kick to the back of his knee and a strategic twist of my body and his arm, and Derek's on his knees and at my mercy. I only hold him there long enough to elicit a growl and let him go, taking a step back. I look Erica full in the face and smile slowly.

"If you're going to use your femininity as a tool, at least do it right," I advise. She glares at me, but I continue. "Go for sensual or seductive, not raunchy. It's a bit too easy to see through, and gives the impression that you're a whore." I shrug. "Which you're not. Obviously."

As Derek gets to his feet and faces me, so do Erica and Isaac, though Erica speaks first. "So what, _now_ you want to stake a claim on him?" she demands. I raise a brow at her mini jealousy fit. "Just last week, you said-!"

"You seem to think that the only way a man will be interested is if you stake a claim," I comment calmly. "I assure you, our Alpha is a free agent, and may do as he pleases. What he chooses to do is completely up to him. I was just giving you friendly advice, girl to girl." I look up at Derek, who's giving me a tired look. "What? It's not my fault she can't take advice well."

Erica steps forward and I laugh, taking a step away from Derek so she can get a clean shot. "Come on baby beta," I urge, grinning menacingly and allowing my eyes to shine blue. "I haven't been able to beat down a punk in a while."

"Enough," Derek states firmly, glaring at each of us. I roll my eyes, annoyed that he's spoiled my fun. "Erica. Don't do that again."

"Why? I'm not a good enough beta?" she challenges. "Do I need to die my hair red and wear blue contacts?" Derek doesn't outwardly react to what she says, but I can tell his patience is wearing thin.

"I already have someone in mind for you," he assures her. Surprisingly, that seems to calm her down, and she backs down from the fight. "We'll discuss that later. Right now, we have more important things to worry about."

"Like?" I prompt. Really, I can't think of anything more important than a, teaching Erica who's boss, and b, getting the betas into fighting shape.

"The creature, Boss," Isaac reminds me, scoffing. Inside, I want to hug him for giving me that nickname. He's really the best, even when he's making fun of me. "Where have you been?"

"Oh, right, the lizard thing," I say with mock realization. "The one that's going around killing people. Please tell me the Argents aren't the only ones with leads." When the four werewolves look at me, I realize it's true. "You guys do realize it's only a matter of time before they get one up on us and take us out, right?"

"Isn't that what we have you for?" Erica challenges, smirking. I smile pleasantly at her.

"And we have you around just to look pretty, but none of us are doing our jobs lately, are we?" She growls and Isaac puts a hand on her arm, silently telling her to calm down already. When I'm certain she's not going to pounce at me, I continue. "There's only so much they tell me, and Roy's being more conservative about his activities. Roy wants me to start my training and Gerard wants me to start hunting, so I'm out of the loop until they reach a decision." I turn back to Derek. "If it was as simple as being born into the business, Allison and Scott would be the most informed duo in town. So, I'm down for some old fashioned investigating."

"We need to figure out what that creature is," Derek goes on, taking charge of the meeting again. I move to sit next to Isaac, who sits up and drapes an arm over my shoulders. Erica continues to give me the stink eye, while I ignore her. "Stiles and Scott are the only ones who have seen it up close. We need to get as much information as we can out of them."

"I'll take Stiles," I volunteer. "He likes me."

Derek chuckles and shakes his head. "I'm happy about your enthusiasm, but I think it might be better if I take point with this one," he says, nodding at Erica. She grins victoriously in my direction, and I stick my tongue out at her in a very mature fashion. "It's time to give the new pack mates some experience when it comes to interrogation."

"You mean threatening," I correct. He turns fully to me and glares.

"In the car, now," he orders, pointing a finger at the train cars. I raise a brow and he growls. He's using Alpha energy, so I should be feeling intimidated into submission, but surprisingly, I'm not. I cross my arms and wait for him to finish his fit, already knowing this could get ugly. Isaac gives me a questioning look and I nod, giving him permission. In mere seconds the betas disperse, Isaac dragging an overly eager Erica away from the scene, and Boyd closely following, taking Isaac's lead when it comes to the pack unspoken rule of how to react when the alpha and oldest beta start to fight.

"I'm not getting in the car, Tarzan," I snap once the betas are out of sight, getting to my feet and standing toe to toe with him. I'm sure they can most likely still hear us, but waiting for them to get out of earshot would take just too much time. "If you want to tell me something, just say it."

"Must you challenge every order I give?" he demands. I frown, and nod.

"When the order is stupid, yes, I will challenge it," I confirm. He bares his teeth.

"You're the Beta," he reminds me in a whisper. "I'm the Alpha."

"And exactly what does that mean?" I shoot back. "Nice glow-y red eyes you have there, grandma. All the better to see me with?"

He opens his mouth to snap a retort, but stops himself, frowning instead. He looks over my face calculatingly, and when he detects whatever it is that he was looking for, he lets out a heavy sigh. "Dammit Conner," he mutters. "You're acting like it's the full moon."

And he's right. During the full moon, I didn't recognize him as an Alpha, and right now, I don't either. I'm itching for a fight with one of my pack mates, and I'm not that kind of person. Then again, I'm not sure what _is_ the rational way to react to a pack mate trying to steal your unofficial man. Would I still be picking a fight with Erica if my wolf side wasn't scratching at the door, whining to be let out to hunt? Just as I'm asking myself these questions and I feel the frustration taking hold, his hand falls on my shoulder, and my mind goes quiet. I look up into his stern blue eyes and nod.

"It's passed," I assure him quietly. "Sorry."

"It's fine," he says stiffly. What else is he going to say? Neither of us knows what's up with me, and if we were being entirely honest, it's making me something of a liability lately. Not that in a pack you toss your members to the wind the first moment they start to cause trouble, but I'm not used to being a burden. I'm used to holding my own weight and staying out of trouble. I clear my throat, scratching the back of my head to hide my embarrassment.

"Yeah, I'm gonna go blow off some steam," I announce, turning around. "Text me when we're gonna go talk to the boys."

"Sit this one out," he suggests. He grabs my wrist softly, stopping me. "I'll go out with them tonight, and tomorrow we'll figure it out."

"I'm just having control issues, I'm not handicapped," I remind him, rolling my eyes. "But sure, I'll sit it out. Just go easy on Stiles, okay? He's a good kid." The look on his face makes it clear that my request will go unfulfilled, but I decide to choose my battles and let it slide. Really, most of the time, it's better to let boys sort out boy problems. Not that Derek's going to let Erica and me duke out our problems ourselves; I'm sure he's going to be watching us like a hawk until things cool down.

"Where are you going?" he asks. "You don't work until later." I shrug.

"Stacey never has a problem with me going in early," I lie smoothly. He nods, letting me know I can leave, and I give him a half-smile. "Try not to miss me too much." He rolls his eyes and I grin, leaning up and pecking him on the cheek. "Oh, and one more thing," I add, gripping the hair at the nape of his neck firmly. When I press my lips against his he reciprocates immediately, his arm wrapping like a vice around my waist and crushing me against him. He hooks a hand under my knee and I lift both legs to wrap around his waist, eliciting a growl from him. I can't help but smirk as he turns us around and starts walking to his subway car, the intention behind his actions very clear.

Just as he releases one of my legs to open the door, I disentangle myself from around him and step away, pulling my clothes back into place and smiling. "You don't have to call me your girlfriend, but you do need to put Erica in her place," I say, grinning when a shadow of frustration crosses his face. "Because between the two of you, you're going to suffer more if you don't."

"Are you kidding me?" he exclaims. Yup, I've definitively caused him some aggravation of the sexual variety, but I resist the urge to follow him into the subway car and instead wave cheekily before running off. Hell, if I don't stand up for what I want, nobody's going to do it for me, are they?

* * *

The smell of beer is comforting as I shoot cans down in the forest, using one of the last 6-packs that Heath left behind when we were still together. It seems like it's been forever since I last took some time for targeting practice, and it's soothing, just like it's always been. The forest feels safe, and this spot feels like home with the beam attached to an old tree and my truck parked just behind me. The sun is setting and the light is leaving the forest, but I reach into the trunk of my pickup and pull out my last pack, walking up to the beam with my gun in one hand and the beer in the other. As I set the cans up, I smile at the old routine. It's funny, most betas exhibit very drastic changes in their likes and dislikes, but so far, I continue to like the very same things. Shooting, my truck, music, Derek.

Derek.

With the image of Erica kissing him in my mind, I move back into position and shoot the line in under twenty seconds, only lowering my hand once all of the cans are on the ground fizzing and useless. It has to be a new personal record. I pull my shooting earmuffs off and check the clip after I've put on the safety, disappointed to see that I've emptied it already. Just as I start making my way to my truck, my phone vibrates in my pocket, and I slide it open to read the message. The screen is still damaged from the day before the full moon, and I make a mental note to put some money away for a new one. With my promotion, I might actually be able to afford one.

**Roy:**

_Don't bite._

"What the hell?" I mutter. I start to text back a reply, but rustling from behind my truck catches my attention, and I instantly get over it. I narrow my eyes and listen for any other tell tale sounds, then crouch down, looking under the truck to check for shoes of somebody standing on the other side. I don't see shoes, but I catch movement in the shadows and reach for the extra clip on my belt. Before I can even pull the empty clip out of the gun, something stings my back and I hiss, reaching back to grab whatever it is. Expecting it to be a bee, I'm surprised when my fingertips brush something feathery. A second later the same stinging hits my shoulder. Frowning, I try to grab at it, but my arms are growing heavy and the edges of my vision are blurring over. I open my mouth to cry out, to warn whoever is there to leave me alone, but all that comes out is a squeak before my legs give out. I don't even feel the ground as my body slumps forward, and float away to the sound of footsteps crunching over dry forest leaves.

So much for safe.

* * *

When I come to, the first thing I realize is that I've been blindfolded.

Most of the time, when waking up after being drugged, it takes a couple of minutes to get your bearings, but a werewolf healing factor has saved me from this delay. In under five seconds, I'm able to reach several conclusions. One, I'm blindfolded. Two, I've been gagged, though the fabric feels soft, like a scarf. Three, I'm tied to a chair, and judging by the rough scraping against my wrists as I twist them against the chair arms, rope is the binding of choice. A soft tug against my ankles confirms that they're bound as well. The smell of freshly chopped wood reaches my nose, and I realize that this is someplace I've been before, though I can't remember when or under what circumstances. My shooting earmuffs are covering my ears, which unnerves me more than it would a normal person. A normal person would be terrified of the blindfold; I'm terrified of the hearing restriction, because I can't hear how many people are around me, or what's going on. Not that the blindfold doesn't scare me, but I can last a short period with only my hearing.

Figuring there's no point in dragging it out, I do the logical thing and scream. The gag doesn't allow me to enunciate any words, but if anyone is close to me, they'll hear. I take a breath and start to scream again when I feel something brush against my side. I flinch away with enough force to shake the chair slightly, but the person reaches forward anyway and pulls my earmuffs off. A second later my gag follows, and I feel fingers touch the blindfold. Baring my teeth I twist my head and try to bite the hand when someone barks an order.

"Leave it."

Gerard. Immediately I feel my stomach sink and my heart rate pick up. There is no way that him being here can be good. I listen to the stranger- most likely a hunter- obey the order and step away, leaving me blindfolded. Now able to hear, I cock my head to the side and listen for how many people are here. The air pressure and echoing of Gerard's footsteps lead me to believe that we're in a small room, and shuffling and a cough indicate that there are at least two other hunters in the room with us. Could Chris Argent be here? He has a soft spot for me.

"Do you know why you're here?" Gerard asks. I've watched enough movies and spoken to Roy enough to know what this is. This is an interrogation, and I need to stay calm if I want to protect my pack and myself. They're hunters, and although that fact in itself should be enough to worry me, they consider me one of their own. Would they resort to torture? If Chris is here, I don't think that will happen, but so far, I can't catch his scent. Even if I can't see him, I look in the direction Gerard's voice is coming from (my right) and shake my head. "Let me give you a hint. We know."

"Know what?" I ask. My voice sounds raspy and I cough, suddenly feeling very thirsty. Could it be a side effect of whatever they shot me with to knock me out?

"That you've been bitten," he answers calmly. Knowing all eyes are on me, I keep my expression as composed as possible and close my eyes, focusing on my heart rate. Roy and I have practiced the story many times and attacked it from so many angles that I'm certain there are no holes in it.

"I wasn't bitten, the alpha only scratched me," I state, referring to the gas station attack. "Roy saw me the following full moons; he can stand for me. I'm human."

"No, you're a liar," Gerard argues calmly, "and this past full moon, you were completely detached from the world. Not even Roy could find you." This time, he's much closer, his words being whispered in my ear. Suddenly, it's hard to keep my breathing even, and I grit my teeth to get control back, though it does me little good. I'm _tied to a frickin' chair!_ "Tell me, Conner. How long have you been a werewolf?"

"Oh, I don't know, for the better part of never," I snap irritably. Yes, anger: that would be a pretty natural reaction to being kidnapped, right? "Peter Hale was the only Alpha to lay a hand on me, and he couldn't turn me. Roy says we have partial immunity."

"Be that as it may, I highly doubt you could survive a bite without turning," he partially agrees. "And _was _Peter Hale the only alpha to lay a hand on you? My son and Roy tell me you went to some extreme measures to gain Derek Hale's trust."

The implication makes me want to slap him, and I bare my teeth, making it clear that I think so. "It was part of the job," I snarl, "and that was before he became an alpha."

"Are you certain?" he presses. "Lingering feelings could push an Alpha to make a mate." I ball my fists angrily. He's behind me now, and I hate being at the mercy of the vengeance-seeking grandfather.

"Need I remind you that sleeping with a werewolf doesn't automatically make you one? The werewolf shifting gene isn't passed through osmosis or as an STD," I force through gritted teeth. "And may I add that I have not, in fact, slept with or been bitten by a werewolf, Alpha or not?"

"Had you told me that a week ago, I may have believed you," he says, false regret in his voice. "After receiving some footage, however, I am forced to question what conclusions I may have reached about you and your loyalty to our cause."

Immediately I feel my stomach drop. "What footage?" I ask, not lessening the amount of seriousness in my voice, but trying to mask my onsetting panic. He had me followed? Could they have seen me shift the night of the full moon? Or worse, could they have caught me with the pack? As the possibilities start to run through my head, I hear a door open, followed by the sounds of a struggle. A chair scrapes across the floor, and as I listen with trepidation, a muffled, male yell sounds through the room. I gasp and listen, trying to figure out who it is. As the man fights wildly against his bonds, I realize that it is most likely one of two men, and I don't want it to be either.

"Who is that?" I demand angrily.

"Hold him down," Gerard orders, dropping his hands on my shoulders. A second later he unties my blindfold, and after blinking against the light, I look at the man in front of me. If it weren't for Gerard's hand clamping over my mouth at just the right moment, I would have screamed. Roy is in front of me, tied to a chair just as I am, with a black eye, split lip and blood on his shirt. He's gagged like I was, but he isn't blindfolded, and right now, his golden eyes are staring wildly at me, imploring me to do something. I fight against the rope tying me to this damned chair and thrash against Gerard's hold on my face, trying to communicate with Roy, regardless of the fact that he can't give me any clear answers.

"Let him go!" I scream, twisting away long enough to yell the order. "He hasn't done anything!"

"Look at him," Gerard orders, grabbing my jaw and forcing me to look at Roy. Roy looks back at me, shaking his head, urging me to stop fighting with Gerard. "He's known about your little secret for weeks, and has been hiding it from us. Sadly, he didn't give us the answers we wanted, so we had to resort to use of technology, and set up cameras in your truck and apartment." He chuckles. "For all of his good intentions, he forgot his place, and doing so has consequences." He nods at one of the hunters, releasing my face and standing up. The hunter Gerard signaled nods back and approaches Roy with a grim expression. He doesn't take out a weapon, but the silent exchange speaks for itself.

And at this point, I can no longer act composed. "No! No, please, don't hurt him!" I yell, jerking forward with enough strength to move the chair an inch towards them. The room is small, but even so, I'm against the opposite wall and they are a good seven feet away. Seven feet that I could normally cross without any trouble. Seven feet until I could have their throats in my hands. "Let him go! He doesn't know anything!"

"Know anything about what?" Gerard presses, grabbing onto my chair. I snarl and twist at my wrist again, slightly loosening the bind on the left one, but not enough to move it significantly. The hunter is approaching Roy, and I yell a warning at him with enough menace to make him pause momentarily. "Conner! What do you know?!" he yells.

"I don't know anything!" I scream back. "I'm not a wolf, and I'm not with Derek! Hell, I'm not even a hunter yet! I'm nothing to nobody! Just let my father go!" My vision blurs, and distantly I realize I've begun to cry. Not that it does any good. Tears aren't stopping that hunter from putting his hands on Roy's shoulders, too close to his neck. I don't have to weigh my options before reaching a decision: to hell with keeping up the act, the hunters need to die. Just as I let go of the hold on my wolf side and brace myself for the physical changes, Roy looks me straight in the eyes, and infinitesimally shakes his head.

My breath catches in my throat, my body freezes, and all I can do is silently stare wide-eyed as the hunter unties Roy, patting him on the shoulder. Distantly I acknowledge that Gerard is speaking as well, but it takes me several seconds to process that he's congratulating me and squeezing my arm encouragingly. I try to will questions to come out of my throat, but it's as if I'm frozen and can't speak. Roy gets up from his chair and walks toward me, training his gaze on me knowingly.

Somehow I know he's the reason I can't speak, and he's the one who stopped me from shifting. He places a small push knife in my hand, then bends over so he can say something into my ear. "Thanks for not howling," he murmurs quietly, then stands up. I gasp as the invisible hold on my vocal cords is released and I glare up at him. Gerard is waiting for him by the entrance and the other hunter has already exited, making it clear that they're going to leave me alone here.

"Are you kidding me?" I exclaim angrily. "This was all a charade?!"

"Not a charade, Conner," Gerard corrects. "There's a creature running loose killing townsfolk, and recently one of our own. You've demonstrated skills that would make you a fine addition to our team. This was a test to prove your loyalty."

"And you passed," Roy adds, patting my cheek affectionately. "So, you can start training." He steps back and I gape disbelievingly after him.

"A test?!" I repeat. When he walks out of the room and a hunter I don't recognize steps inside, I grit my teeth and glare at Gerard. "Couldn't have given me a heads up or anything?" The old man only smiles and closes the door behind him, leaving me with the young hunter, who's smirking knowingly. "Let me guess. You lost a bet and now you're stuck babysitting the new kid," I say sarcastically. He doesn't say anything and only presses a button on his iPhone, showing me the screen.

A stopwatch.

Great.

It isn't the first time I've been tied up and had my escape timed. First time was when I was thirteen. It was a prank (courtesy of my brothers), and I'd spent the better part of six hours tied to a lamppost before finally getting free. So, learning from my mistakes, I decide to skip the hour of relentless screaming and get to work at the rope tying my right hand down.

* * *

As it turns out, the other part of the test is me finding my way home from an unknown location in the middle of the forest.

It only took me the better part of an hour to completely break free. When I'd gotten to work cutting through the rope binding my ankles, my companion had left, letting me know how much time I had taken before taking his leave. When I'd been able to leave the room (which turned out to be the basement of a rather cozy cabin), I hadn't wasted time looking around the cabin for a phone, and had simply stepped outside. My phone had been dropped when the hunters had grabbed me, so I'm pretty much on my own here, and should make the best of the situation.

Now, with the moon well-raised in the sky and the darkness enveloping me, I walk purposefully between the trees, letting my instincts guide my feet. Though I can't bring myself to specify where I am, the area seems familiar, and I'm grateful that we shifters are gifted with a spectacular sense of direction. It also helps that tire tracks in the ground mark the way out, but who cares for the minor details in the grand scheme of things?

Maybe about half an hour into my journey home, I start to get a bad feeling. Well, not necessarily a bad feeling, but a... discomforting one. You know, like when someone is staring at you, and though you know they aren't planning your death, it still creeps you out? That awkward kind of discomfort. I look around, but don't see anybody, and speed up a little bit. If it's one of my pack members, I think I'd be able to sense them. If it's Erica, I'll smell her in a second. The idiot is still fighting the no-perfume rule we keep telling her about, which makes it considerably easy to find her.

As I start to hear the sound of traffic, I hear rustling behind me, and stop. Now I'm certain I'm being watched, and listen carefully. Now I can hear breathing, and not human breathing; this is a strange, rolling kind of sound, like a monster from a movie. Rather than silence itself, whatever is watching me starts to approach, and whirling around, I face it head-on.

Yellow eyes stare back at me from a head cocked to the side curiously. My breathing catches in my chest and I gulp as the creature takes a slow step forward. It has a reptilian look to it, with long claws as it continues slithering forward on all fours. Behind it, its long tail whips side to side like a snake, a threatening spike at its tip dripping with venom on the foliage. It opens its mouth slightly, and I see long rows of small, sharp teeth. This has to be the creature that killed Isaac's father, the mechanic and the hunter. I stay still, watching it steadily as it stops only a foot away. Everything about this creature is made for killing and yet it doesn't make a move to attack.

Several long seconds pass as it tilts its head to the other side. It doesn't seem to want to hurt me, and yet I know that that's exactly what it's been going around doing. Not sure what else to do, I hold out my left hand the same way I would to a new dog. Immediately it reacts, leaping back and whipping its tail out, slashing at my wrist. Hissing I scramble away, baring my teeth at it and growling. My eyes flash blue, warning it that I'm also a shifter, and ready to fight. It stops ten feet away and waits in a defensive stance for me to do something, but I don't make the first move again. Now I'll wait.

The cut heals quickly enough, though it tingles strangely like ants are crawling over it. Numbness spreads across my hand, but I flex my fingers to get the blood flowing through it again, and the sensation fades away. The creature watches me carefully, seemingly confused. I don't know how I can read the emotions of such a strange creature, but somehow I know that whatever it is that I'm doing, he didn't expect it. Because, yes, this creature gives me the impression that it's a he. And not only that, but _he _seems to recognize me. I take a step forward, forcing my eyes to return to their normal golden color, and though it takes some effort, I retract my fangs.

"What's wrong?" I ask, injecting my voice with concern. It takes a step back for every step I take forward, but I don't stop. If it wanted to kill me like the others, it would have done so already. "It's alright. I don't want to hurt you." It stops, and warily holds out a claw like I held my hand out earlier.

"Conner!"

The sound of Isaac's voice breaks the spell and the creature hisses before making a break through the trees. I don't try to pursue it and turn around as Isaac bounds towards me, eyes wide with alarm. "Conner, are you alright?" he demands, grabbing my shoulders. I nod quickly as he looks me over, ignoring my assurances that I'm fine. Seeing blood, he takes my hand and turns my wrist up. "What happened?"

"Cut myself, but I'm healed," I say reassuringly. The lie slips out before I can stop it, and by the time it's out, it's too late to take it back, and he's already talking again.

"You shouldn't be out alone," he states. "The lizard thing paralyzes you before it kills you."

That's new. "It paralyzes you?" I repeat. He nods. "How did you find out?" I ask. He smirks.

"Took your advice and talked to Scott," he answers. "Convinced him to talk to Derek." I feel a swell of pride, and the motherly aspect of it must show on my face, because he rolls his eyes. "Geez, it isn't that big of a deal. And if it's alright with you, I'd rather keep that between you and me. The others are at the game interrogating Stiles, and if Derek finds out I went against a direct order..."

"Why aren't you with them?" I ask, clasping his forearm. He smiles slightly at the gesture.

"I was looking for you," he replies. Warmth spreads through me at his concern, and I can't stop a smile from breaking across my face. "Your cousins told me you hadn't checked in, and they had to leave, so I tracked you here. But if Derek asks, I was keeping Scott distracted. What happened?"

"How about I tell you on the way to the station?" I suggest tiredly. "It's been a really long day." Suddenly remembering something, I curse and slap a hand to my forehead. "Crap! Stacey's going to _kill _me!"

* * *

They arrived at the cafe about an hour later, and by then, the exhaustion of the day was starting to show on Conner's face. They'd had to walk to the spot where she'd left her truck, then they'd made a stop at her apartment so that she could get changed, but more than once he'd had to strike up a conversation or clear his throat to keep her alert at the wheel. Once parked in front of the cafe, she jumped out of the truck and ran inside, leaving the truck running so that he could wait in it.

As he watched her talk to her boss, Isaac pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed Derek's number. To his surprise, the call went straight to voice mail, so he called Erica. This time, someone answered on the second ring, but it wasn't the she-wolf.

"Where the hell are you and Conner?" Derek demanded in a growl. Isaac rolled his eyes.

"We're at Stacey's," he answered boredly. "Conner was abducted, and had to go to work afterwards."

"Abducted?" Derek repeated, his irritation with Isaac suddenly disappearing, replaced with rapt attention. "What happened?"

"Inauguration into the hunter clan," Isaac said as he watched Conner. The whole front wall was lined with windows, so despite the dimness of the cafe, he had no trouble seeing inside. "They knocked her out, tied her up and left her in the middle of the woods. She's had a pretty rough night. She needs the night off."

"You're at Stacey's?" Derek demanded, ignoring his last comment.

"I'm in her truck, she's in Stacey's," he confirmed.

"I'm on my way."

Conner sat on a stool on stage and lowered the microphone to her height, smiling widely at the customers. As Isaac watched, he marveled at how carefree she seemed there, hiding the day's events behind a stage smile and a sticker-covered acoustic guitar. A guy her age with shoulder-length blond dreadlocks sat next to her playing the keyboard, but his eyes were trained on her throughout the whole performance. They took requests from customers, only pausing for a minute or two between songs before diving into acoustic interpretations of the requests. The last request was "Just A Kiss" by Lady Antebellum, a song Isaac couldn't help feeling mildly embarrassed for recognizing.

Half an hour later, Derek, Erica and Boyd walked past the truck and up to the cafe, standing outside to look in through the windows. Isaac got out of the truck and rejoined them, greeting Erica and Boyd with a nod before looking past Derek to see what he was staring at. Conner and the guy had just finished the song and were stepping down from the stage when an encouraging chant from the customers made them stop. Even from outside, Isaac could clearly hear what they were saying, and felt his stomach drop.

_Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!_

This wasn't going to end well.

Conner laughed lightly and shook her head, but the dreadlocks guy put a hand to her cheek anyway, and before the girl could protest, kissed her swiftly on the lips. The customers started to applaud and cheer, but all Isaac could do was stare wide-eyed as Conner put her hand to the guy's chest and pulled back. Gulping, Isaac turned to look at Derek, bracing himself, but the Alpha was gone.

No, not gone.

"Shit!" Boyd exclaimed, running a hand over his head and raising his brows. The bell hanging from the door handle jingled as Derek pushed the cafe door open, marching inside. The three betas collectively tensed as their Alpha moved through the cafe as if he owned the place, moving straight towards Conner and the musician. Conner caught sight of him and her jaw dropped slightly, but she managed to move in front of the guy, protecting him from whatever Derek was about to do.

Derek made no move to harm the musician, but even so, the blond took a step back, pulling Conner's arm. She softly pulled her arm away and lifted her chin challengingly at Derek. "What do you want?" she asked, raising a brow. He smirked.

"Don't act cute," he warned, and cupping the back of her neck, pulled her forward and crashed his lips against hers. The crowd erupted in whoops and cheers as he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her completely against him, possessiveness and desire radiating from his every move. Conner didn't react at first, frozen stricken by the bold action, but after a couple of seconds melted against him, gripping his arms tightly and responding with equal fervor. Stacey barked for them to stop and they reluctantly parted to laughter and applause from customers. The musician scratched the back of his head awkwardly, not sure what to do, and an older man sitting next to where he stood pat his shoulder encouragingly.

Derek smiled a half-smile at her, waved shortly at a scowling Stacey, and exited the cafe. The three betas watched him carefully, no longer knowing what to expect from the unpredictable wolf, and Isaac chanced a look back into the cafe to see how Conner was handling the public display of affection. Surprisingly, she looked tense, and was already sitting at a booth talking to a middle-aged man. The scene confused him, but when the man shifted in his seat, his jacket moved to the side, revealing a gun in its holster.

_A hunter._

"Oh great..."

* * *

**Don't forget to review :D!**


	17. Choosing Sides

**Author's Note:**

**So, now that midterms are over, I CAN BREATHE! Thanks all for your wonderful input, you've all made this story so much fun to write!**

**And...! I JUST GOT MY FIRST FANART! I'm so ecstatic! Thanks so much to the lovely Lycan Lover 411, who's stuck with this story and made me my first banner! Also, she has some stories up, so you should definitely go read ;)**

** : / / i1189. photobucket albums/ z440/ xxWEREWOLFLOVERxx/ Story%20Banners/ NotaGoodYeartobeanOmega2. jpg?t=1349485376**

* * *

Roy taps his fingers on the counter, brows raised expectantly as he watches me squirm under his gaze. A cup of steaming coffee is on the counter in front of me, but I don't dare reach out and take it, as if by doing so, he'll see through me. I cross my arms and look anywhere but at him, but the clock on the wall makes it clear that, at some point, we're going to have to talk, at least before Gerard, Chris Argent and stupid Brandon Brown get here. After about a minute of the avoiding contest, I cave and grab the cup of coffee.

"What the hell kind of name is Brandon Brown anyway?" I demand, glaring at Roy as if it's his fault Brandon Brown's mother decided to name him that. "It sounds like a fake sleeper cell name. I say he's a spy, and should be kicked out of the team immediately."

"Derek Hale walked into Stacey's and kissed you in front of a crowd of over fifty customers," Roy states, as if I haven't even spoken. I roll my eyes and start to sip the caffeinated drink. Apparently he doesn't hate me _that _much, because there's hazelnut flavor in it. "What did you expect to happen?"

"I didn't think it would be this big of a deal," I lie. He raises a brow, and I glare at him. "What? I didn't kiss him, _he _kissed _me_!"

"Yeah, try and convince Gerard of your innocence," he says, picking up his own mug of coffee. "So, have you and Derek been keeping in touch?" he asks, the implication clear. I lower my coffee and look him dead in the eyes.

"Because the smart thing would be to keep up a relationship with the town Alpha and also train to be a hunter, right?" I shake my head and tuck a lock of hair behind my ear. "He's been pissed ever since I left the pack, and was trying to make a point. What that point was, I don't know, but he seemed pretty satisfied with himself."

"Do you want me to take care of him?" Roy asks, and I can't help feeling alarmed by the complete seriousness in his tone. I smile and shake my head shortly. He shrugs. "If you change your mind..."

"If it's that easy, why hasn't anyone taken him out?" I can't help asking. If I'm going to be a spy, I might as well do my job right. He smirks, and I see a bit of arrogance in his stance as he sips his coffee.

"For the most part, unless there's an immediate threat, I sit back and let the Argents do what they wish," he answers carefully, clearly hedging around the true reason. "At some point, you'll learn that there are certain perks and restrictions to being a Blackbird. We're very resourceful, but your biggest advantage is always keeping those resources hidden, and if I went taking out every Alpha from here to the east coast, that would warrant much attention."

"Speaking of perks and resources..." I trail off, not sure how to breach the subject. He smiles knowingly and nods, letting me know he already sees where I'm going with the opening.

"You want to know how I could stop you from shifting," he finishes. I let out a breath and nod. He leans casually against the counter and sighs. "Well... Let's just say that part of your mother's theory on suppression of the instinct was based on a little gift us Blackbirds have." He lifts himself onto the counter and grins. "How did you think I got my nickname?"

"What nickname?"

"Alpha Hunter," he says simply. "An Alpha is no better than any other human when you force them to un-shift. That's why Peter had no problem with me stepping in and taking you away for a while when he was around; he knew that even if he objected, I'd be able to get my way, anyways." I can't help the ice that trickles down my back as I picture him hunting Derek, but he continues, unaware of the effect of his words. "See, there's a whole legend behind it, but basically our family can force a shifter to show its other self. I'll start showing you how to un-shift a shifter as we continue your training." He pauses, and smiles warmly at me. "You know, I didn't want to freak you out by mentioning it, but I couldn't help feeling touched by what you said the other night."

I frown, too distracted by the onslaught of new information to know what he's talking about. "Specify?" I ask. He cocks his head to the side.

"You called me your father."

"Oh." I lower my head and shrug a shoulder, embarrassed. I hadn't even realized I'd said it at the time. "Well, you are," I mutter. He shakes his head, as if trying to liberate me from the awkward topic.

"Don't worry, it's not like I expect you to start calling me 'Dad' or anything," he assures me. Thank goodness, because we haven't reached that point yet. "But now that you're officially training, if you're alright with it, I'd like for us to spend some time together." He points a finger at my eyes. "You may still consider yourself a Daniels, but you're also a Blackbird, and we have a reputation to keep. We aren't just hunters, we're the best of the best, and I won't have you being mediocre." I force myself to laugh and nod in agreement.

"Sure Roy," I agree, clearing my throat. "I'd... really like that."

Geez, why the hell did I agree to be a spy?

As if on cue, there's a knock at the door, and Roy presses a buzzer on the wall. The front door opens, and surely enough, Gerard, Chris Argent, and _stupid_ Brandon Brown walk in, nodding at us in greeting. "You guys want coffee?" Roy offers, gesturing at the coffee pot. "Shot it up with some hazelnut."

"Allergic," Brandon Brown excuses. I can't help smirking, and Roy winks as the three men sit in the living room. He jumps down from the counter and moves to the living room, gesturing for me to follow. I grudgingly do, keeping my eyes focused on my coffee.

"Am I the only one that thinks it's awkward that we're all assembled to discuss that I got kissed by some guy?" I ask, sitting down next to Roy. Chris gives me a tired look, and I raise my brows. "Okay then. Just me?"

"He isn't 'some guy'," Chris states.

"What? So he's a werewolf."

"He's an Alpha, and can turn any of us with a bite or scratch," he clarifies tightly. "You need to stay away from him."

"Yeah, because I really asked him to show up and kiss me at work, right?" I shoot back in irritation. I turn my glare to Brandon Brown. "Couldn't you have told them the whole story, like the part where I _didn't _invite him inside?!"

"Don't blame Brandon," Roy says, squeezing my shoulder. I roll my eyes. "It's not his fault."

"Well, it's not my fault either!" I exclaim.

"You didn't have to kiss him back," Brandon points out. I glare daggers at him, and he immediately lowers his head. "I'm just saying..."

"Now, let's all take a deep breath here," Gerard suggests, smiling with his eyes as he holds up a hand. Grumbling, I sit back and drink my coffee. "Now, I say that this is a good thing."

I'm only partially surprised by his statement, but Roy and Chris are shocked, to say the least. Apparently they aren't aware of how Gerard cornered me the other day to suggest I rekindle the fire with Derek. "How is this a good thing?" Chris demands angrily. "It's not just any old beta, he's the _Alpha_-!"

"And who better to infiltrate the operation than a Blackbird?" he reasons. My father's last name seems to have a stronger significance to them than it does to me, because Chris stops to consider it for a fraction of a second, but Roy doesn't back down.

"They already have a history, it's not safe," he states firmly. "His actions aren't the actions of a man in love, they're of an Alpha staking his claim, letting us know that he can have her, even if she's under our protection. It's dangerous, and she isn't trained."

"Sounds like a perfect setting for star-crossed lovers to me," Gerard muses, looking me over carefully. "And from what I've seen, she's perfectly capable of handling herself." I look away, feeling very uncomfortable. Now I'm suddenly wishing he was agreeing with Chris and forbidding me from ever speaking to Derek again. But asking me to seduce him for the hunter cause? Even if there's no way that I'll do it, it makes me feel dirty to be enlisted to pretend to. Roy shakes his head firmly.

"I won't have my daughter used in such a way," he states. Gerard nods, accepting Roy's opinion.

"All the same, Conner is an emancipated young woman working a full-time job and studying towards a college degree," Gerard points out. "I believe she can make her own decisions."

"She's seventeen!" Chris exclaims exasperatedly.

"And being a killer isn't something determined by age!" Gerard roars, silencing the room. I keep my eyes trained on my coffee, not wanting to look into the eyes of the calculating, experienced killer. "Conner-"

"I won't do it." I say it barely above a whisper, but in the tense silence, it's easy to hear, and catches even Gerard by surprise. "Like Roy said, he isn't in love with me, and I'm not trained. One love bite, or one argument that leads to a scratch, and it's all over." I set the mug down on the table and stand up, grabbing my backpack from the floor and making my way out. "I'm not taking on that responsibility."

"Conner-" Chris starts.

"When you guys want to talk about actually killing something, let me know," I call, waving shortly over my shoulder and slamming the door behind me.

* * *

"So, the Kanima is a shifter, and started attacking people right after Peter was killed," I muse, drumming my fingers on the dashboard of my truck. "Why now?"

"Let's assume the person needed to have been bitten," Derek says, his voice from my cellphone making it easy to imagine his brooding face. "That means it would have to be Lydia or Jackson."

"Lydia, as in the girl that Stiles took to the dance?" I clarify. "It can't be her."

"Why not?" Derek challenges. "She was bitten by Peter, and spent a couple of days running around the woods naked."

"That could be shock!" I argue. "And I'm sorry, but for all of her faults, Lydia doesn't give off the vibe of being evil."

"And you think Jackson does?" Derek asks. "From what I remember, you were the one who insisted we give him the Bite. Remember how that turned out?" I can almost picture him raising his brow at me, and I roll my eyes. He'd already filled me in on how Jackson's body started rejecting the Bite, and hasn't let me live it down since.

"No, I don't think Jackson is evil, either," I answer. "Honestly, I think there's something we're overlooking. If it is one of these two kids, there has to be something else. They have no motive to go around killing these people."

"As far as we know. Jackson was Isaac's neighbor."

"Yeah, and Jackson is so noble, he'd kill Isaac's father to protect Isaac, right?" Deciding that we aren't going anywhere with this, I change the subject. "How do you plan on proving who's the Kanima?"

"We have some of the venom here from the other night," Derek explains. "We'll give each of them some, and see who's immune."

Recalling what happened when the Kanima scratched me, I consider telling him about it, but decide against it. If I tell him my suspicion, I don't know how he'll react, and right now, I don't have time for an interrogation. Later, later I'll tell him, definitely. "Alright, I'll bring Jackson to the station, then."

"Don't worry, Erica and Isaac have it covered." A part of me is growing increasingly annoyed at being kept out of the loop, but I bite my tongue about it. I spent the morning with hunters, what else was he supposed to do? Wait for me to call? That's not a very Alpha-like thing to do.

"By the way, we have a situation," I continue, dropping my head back against the headrest. "Gerard wants me to spy on you."

"And what did you tell him?"

"I told him no. Things are dangerous enough as it is without me being a double agent," I mutter. I expected him to immediately agree, but to my surprise, he doesn't say anything at first. "... You aren't seriously considering going along with it, are you?" Still silence. "Derek-"

"The closer you are to him, the more of an advantage we'll have," he finally says. "We've been a step behind the Argents this whole time, and if we hope to stand a chance against them and the Kanima, we need to take the offensive."

"So youwant to take advantage of this," I say slowly, and as I say it, I start to realize something. "No... you _planned_ this!" When he doesn't say anything, I curse quietly and ball my fists. "Dammit Derek, you can't just go making decisions like that without me!"

"You wouldn't have agreed otherwise."

"Because it's **not a good idea**!" I hiss. "You should have told me! It isn't just me in danger anymore! It's the Pack, it's my father, it's-!"

"If I'd told you, they would have been able to tell that you were in on it," he cuts off. "And since when do you call Roy your father?"

"Why is everyone making such a big deal about that?" I exclaim. "The man's come out of the woodwork and is talking constantly about how I'm the youngest Blackbird, so the word slips out every now and then."

"Be careful with him."

"Trust me, I am."

I haven't told him about Roy's newly revealed talent or his chilling nickname, and don't plan to. The less tension between my biological father and my Alpha, the better. It's enough dealing with the unspoken bullying that Derek has going on with Isaac; if I add Roy onto it, then Derek will be antagonizing about 50% of the decent males that I know, excluding my brothers. And thank goodness he doesn't know about what happened in 2006; I mean, to me, it's harmless information, but then again, Derek's been a little more than slightly unpredictable lately, and I wouldn't put it past him to turn something innocent into something... not. Taking a look at the time on the radio, I grab my purse and sigh.

"Gotta go, sweet pea," I say teasingly, pushing open the door and jumping out. "I'll see you after work."

"What, don't want me to visit?"

"I'm not doing this," I say in a sing-song voice, walking across the parking lot up to Stacey's Cafe. "I'm going to wait until Gerard sees that you are completely uninterested in me, and then just let this whole thing blow over. Now that we know it's a Kanima running around, we have plenty of more important things to do."

"Keeping tabs on the Argents is important, too," he reminds me. I roll my eyes. "That's your responsibility. Do what you have to do."

"Don't try and sugar-coat it honey, please," I mutter sarcastically. "See you later." I hang up the phone, only to see Stacey waiting inside the cafe for me, arms crossed and an unreadable expression on her face. Bracing myself, I push open the door and smile tentatively at her. "Good morning?"

"So,I've come up with a way for you to make up for last night's fiasco," she states, looking me up and down. When I don't say anything, she continues. "As you know, my daughter's birthday is coming up."

"... Yes," I force out, trying to keep a composed face. Because, really, until she mentioned it, I hadn't been under the impression that Stacey had ever been with a man, much less spent enough time with one to be able to procreate. "Anything I can do...?"

"She's only had one wish for the past two years, and it's time she stopped feeling disappointed. I need you to get me Taylor Swift for this weekend." At my blank expression, she finally smiles, cocking her head to the side and narrowing her eyes. "That, or you can hand your job over to Jesse and look for a new job without listing my name as a reference."

* * *

**Two Days Later:**

"What do you mean she isn't at her apartment?"

Derek's demand echoed through the subway station, his harsh tone lost on his three betas. It had been days since any of them had had any contact with Conner, and it was starting to show in their defiant attitudes. Erica and Boyd hung back behind Isaac, while the oldest of the three spoke to the Alpha. Isaac shrugged lazily and checked his cell phone.

"Last I heard from her was a text message last night, congratulating me on not being wanted by the police anymore," he answered, holding out the phone for Derek to see. "I don't know how she found out, if none of us have talked to her."

"It could have been Scott or Stiles," Derek said, turning away. "Hell, even Jackson could have told her." He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head, deciding he'd worry about it later. "Do you know what to do?"

Erica held up the test tube of Kanima poison. "Get a drop or two on Little Miss Perfect," she replied with a smirk. "Keep Scott distracted."

"Be careful not to get any on yourselves," he reminded them. "If you do, Scott will notice and get in the way." He nodded, dismissing them. "Let me know if you hear from Conner." He started walking to his car when he noticed that Erica didn't follow the two boys out and stood there, arms crossed and a question obviously on the tip of her tongue. Luckily, he didn't have to wait long for the she-wolf to spit out what was on her mind.

"You said the Kanima is a shifter," she said carefully, gauging his reaction before going on. "So, technically, the Kanima could also be a werewolf."

"What are you trying to say?" he asked, already not liking where she was going. She hung her hands lazily from her leather jacket pockets and took a deep breath.

"I'm just saying, Isaac said Conner only started shifting a little before the full moon when the Kanima first appeared," she began. Seeing Derek open his mouth to say something, she cut him off and went on. "She lives alone, so we can't say we know where she is at night; the night of the lacrosse game, she conveniently disappeared while we were being attacked by the pool; and now, when she knows we're investigating the Kanima, where is she?" She gestured around them at the empty station. "And we heard you arguing with her. What exactly happens to her during the full moon?"

Derek tightened his jaw and resisted the urge to curse their enhanced hearing. He and Conner had both agreed that it was for the best to keep her strange behavior between hem until they had a better idea of the cause of it. "Do you all feel this way?" he asked shortly. "Or is it only because of the rivalry you have with her?" She held up her hands defensively, brows raised.

"Not at all," she said quickly, shaking her head. "And... it was just a hunch-"

"Worry less about your hunches and more about what you have to do," he stated, unable to stop the unspoken threat from dripping into his tone. "Otherwise, you aren't going to last much longer." She seemed to get the point, because in a second she was running out the station after her pack mates, not daring to look back. He let out a heavy breath and climbed into his train car, sliding the door closed behind him.

As much as he hated to admit it to himself, Erica had a point, and in spite of the tension between the two girls, he knew that Erica respected her, and wouldn't make up theories that could get her killed. And so, pacing back and forth in the privacy of his car, he started to get together the facts. The night that Isaac's father was killed, Conner had been at work until 10, and supposedly had been with the police until midnight because somebody keyed her truck. The only one that could prove that, however, was Isaac, and he only saw her long after his father had been killed. During the other murders, Conner had claimed to be at one place: work. But when the Kanima had attacked them at the school, Isaac had found her in the woods afterwards. Not to mention she'd been having trouble with her control that morning, and had had more than enough reason to want to hurt Erica. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and wrote a quick text message, wanting to kill the theory before it grew any stronger.

_Where are you?_

He grabbed his jacket and car keys and strode out of the train car, making his way to the underground parking garage. It didn't take long to get an answer, and surely enough, the response was exactly what he'd expected it to be.

_Working. _

He decided not to answer and pocketed the phone instead. If she said she was at work, then she was at work, and he had investigations to supervise. Before he further entertained the far-fetched possibility that Conner, his beta, was the Kanima, he needed to eliminate the possibility that Lydia was. Just as he was getting into his car, he got another message. With a frown, he slid his thumb across the screen and opened the text message.

_Sorry I've been MIA. Can't explain over text. Miss you, see you soon._

No. Conner couldn't be the Kanima. She just couldn't.

* * *

**The Next Day:**

So, Conner wasn't the Kanima.

Neither was Lydia.

The Kanima was Jackson, and he was being controlled by someone else. After researching the names of the victims and Jackson, they were no closer to figuring out who was behind the recent murders than when Isaac's father was first killed. And, to top it all off, Conner still hadn't been seen, and they still didn't have a clue what the hunters were planning.

Which was why Derek was taking matters into his own hands.

She'd texted that she was at work again, and rather than take her word for it, he'd stopped by the Cafe, only to find that she wasn't there. Finding out where she was was as simple as asking the cashier. The cashier had told him their boss's name and assured him that she was at her house, but that she wasn't allowed to tell him where that was. An Internet search had given him the needed remaining information, and accompanied by Isaac and Erica, they'd gotten into his car and driven down the back roads into the woods. According to what Isaac had heard from Conner, Stacey had come into a large sum of money, and rather than spend it on a lavish car or trip or aesthetic surgery, had paid off a good number of years of medical bills and bought a house in the woods, away from the city noise. According to Google Earth, it was remote enough that an image wasn't showing up, but not remote enough that it didn't show up on the GPS.

Within twenty minutes, the dirt road became narrow enough that only one car could drive down it, and the trees started to thin out. Just as Derek was starting to wonder if they'd made a wrong turn, they drove into a clearing, and it became clear that they hadn't. A large, Georgia-style mansion with a wraparound porch and tall, white columns stood proudly in the middle of a perfectly circular meadow, pink, red and white balloons lining the whole driveway leading up to it. About twenty cars were already parked in the grass and the front doors were thrown wide open in invitation, complimenting the large banner hanging from the second floor of the house that read: HAPPY BIRTHDAY ISIS! Isaac and Erica stared wide-eyed as they approached the house and parked slightly separated from the other cars.

Isaac was the first to speak. "Are we sure this is a good idea?" he asked. "I mean, maybe we should trust her, and just wait..."

"Yeah, it's kinda wrong to crash a little girl's birthday party," Erica added in agreement, looking warily out the window. A group of three girls ran out the front door at that particular moment, shrieking as a boy with a ghoul mask chased after them. "We already know she's not the Kanima. What other kind of evil can she be up to here?"

"She's hiding something," Derek stated firmly, killing the engine and stepping out of the car. "We need to find out what."

And that was the end of the discussion. Following his cue, they stepped out of the car and onto the grass, following him around the side of the house. Music drifted over to them from the back yard, and as they turned the corner around the house, it became clear that the party was more of an outdoor barbecue and concert. A wooden stage had been set up with red and white streamers linking it to the house over ten picnic tables loaded with party favors and covered with checkered tablecloths. Children seemed to be popping out of the grass and from under the tables, running around and shrieking. Derek recognized Stacey amongst the crowd, an uncharacteristic smile on her face as she looked up at the stage where some curly-haired blond girl was singing.

Stacey caught sight of them, and rather than start yelling like Derek had expected her to, she smiled and waved them over. Not seeing another choice, he started towards the woman, looking around for Conner in the sea of children. Stacey placed a hand on his arm and smiled.

"Don't worry, she's almost done," Stacey assured him, then turned back to the stage, where a little girl with feathery light brown hair had just climbed onto. The girl latched onto the blond woman's leg for dear life, and as the woman finished singing the song, she smiled, and Derek saw it. There was a short pause as the Pack froze and stared wide-eyed, unable to completely believe who was standing on the stage, and then the spell broke. Isaac burst into laughter and Erica snorted, but all Derek could do was stare dumbstruck as Conner, now blond with waist-length curly hair and wearing a white dress, picked the girl up and settled her on her hip. Lifting the microphone to her lips, she let out a whoop, catching everyone's attention.

"How about a round of applause for the birthday girl, Isis?"

All of the parents started to clap and the children paying attention cheered enthusiastically, earning a toothy grin from the little girl. Conner nodded in approval and placed the microphone back, then stepped off the stage. She sat down on the steps with the girl as the guests returned to what they were doing and the DJ (who Derek now saw was another person from the cafe) started to play a popular pop song.

"You can go talk to her now," Stacey spoke up, catching Derek's attention. "She's done for the day, and we're even." Taking her permission, Derek started to walk towards where Conner and the girl who were sitting next to each other, face-to-face. Conner seemed to be making wild gestures, and it wasn't until he got closer that he noticed the girl making similar gestures back. Conner and the five-year-old spoke to each other through signs, a language Derek was unfamiliar with, but Conner handled like a natural, keeping up a conversation with the spirited girl as if it was an everyday occurrence. It had never come up that she could speak sign language, though when he turned to Isaac, the teenager seemed unsurprised, and shrugged in response to the unspoken question.

"Her little sister is deaf," he said in a mutter, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets. "You should know about this already."

The not-s-subtle admonishment wasn't lost on him. The girl launched herself at Conner and wrapped her arms around her neck, squeezing her in a tight hug before taking off for her mother. Conner stayed sitting on the steps, staring off beyond the party to the woods. Figuring it would be best to talk to her before she got caught up, Derek stepped forward, placing a hand on her shoulder. She jumped and looked up at him, eyes widening with surprise.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, sniffing. Disguising it by tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, she wiped a tear away and got to her feet, turning to her pack. They hadn't seen her cry before, and she didn't seem very willing to let them start, because she set her jaw and crossed her arms, raising her brow expectantly. "I'm working."

"We hadn't heard from you, and Derek asked where you were," Isaac answered, stepping in with a grin when Derek hesitated to respond. "So... Taylor Swift, huh?"

She narrowed her eyes at the teenager. "Don't," she warned playfully. "You have our Alpha to blame. Turns out Stacey was simply waiting for an excuse to threaten me into performing for her daughter's birthday party." She cocked her head to the side, looking Erica over. "Then again, you probably would have been a better choice. I'm really loving the big hair. Beats wearing these hair extensions."

Erica didn't seem to know how to respond, and Derek decided he wasn't going to get any information from Conner while she was distracted with the betas. "Is there someplace we can talk?" he asked. She nodded, and jerked her head towards the rest of the field.

"I can spare a minute or two. Stacey already thinks you're my boyfriend, and she informed me today that she approves."

As they started to distance themselves from the party, she leaned closer and looped her arm through his. When they stopped and he started to speak, she held up a hand, signaling him to stop. "Before you say anything, hold on one second." She lifted herself onto her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his, lingering there a little longer than a peck. She smiled contentedly and nodded. "I needed that." Taking a step back, she crossed her arms and cocked her head to the side. "Couldn't have waited for me to explain tomorrow?" she asked. "You know, after I dyed my hair back?"

"Nobody told you to dye your hair," he said flatly. She laughed.

"Are you kidding me?" she exclaimed. "That Isis, she's a little Stacey in the making. Last performer to wear a wig got their wig pulled off. I wasn't going to risk that happening, not with my job on the line, so I had to spend the day in the hair salon getting extensions and all sorts of girlish madness." At his questioning look, she explained. "It was either perform or lose my job, and I can't afford that."

"We can't afford to have you disappearing, either," he pointed out, cutting to the chase. They were far enough from the party that the betas couldn't hear them, but close enough that they could still see everything clearly. One of the things they could see were the betas watching them like complete stalkers. He definitely needed to talk to them about that. She sighed and nodded.

"I know, I know, it's just..." She trailed off, staring into the woods and fidgeting absentmindedly with a loose thread on the hem of her dress. "Gerard has been having me followed ever since I said I wouldn't spy. I'm worried that he's bugged my apartment, and to make matters worse, he's planted a hunter to work at Stacey's to keep an eye on me." She shook her head and set her jaw. "I can't endanger the pack, so I need to distance myself a little until they get over it."

"There's another option," he reminded her. She glared.

"Yeah, double agent it, right?" she said sarcastically. "Because it'd be smart to give them even more chances to see that I'm a bit more involved than I'm letting on." She shook her head firmly. "I've really been thinking hard about it, and I'm not going to put the Pack in any more danger. I need to choose a side, and I'm choosing the Pack. I'll tell Roy that I want out, and-"

"I'm not going to let you," he stated firmly. Her eyes widened slightly in surprise, but she didn't say anything, waiting for him to go on. "If you really want what's best for the Pack, you need to get closer to the hunters. You aren't like Scott, you can keep your emotions separate from your obligations-"

"Which is why I'm involved with you, right?" He hadn't expected for her to jab that low at their relationship. Her eyes were narrowed, and she was clearly upset, though he'd seen her angrier before. "You're my Alpha, but you're also more than that. Even so, you don't get to make decisions for me."

He opened his mouth to argue: yes, they had something, but he was her Alpha before anything else, not the other way around. It wasn't something she wanted to hear, but she needed to hear it, even if it meant putting their relationship away until she understood the pack dynamic she'd been missing out on. He braced himself for the fight that would follow as soon as he made the statement, but was cut off by her cellphone ringing obnoxiously from an ankle strap. Rather than ignore it like he'd expected her to, she lifted her foot and pulled the cellphone out of the harness and read the text message, holding up a hand to tell him to be quiet. She gasped, and that hand flew to cover her mouth.

Anger, he'd seen on her face. Lust, irritation, affection, and even love on an occasion or two. But the look of dread and fear, the kind that implied that her reality had just been shattered in a second... He'd never seen that in her golden eyes, and as her hands started to shake, he felt his stomach drop. She put her phone back in its harness, and as her breathing started to pick up, he saw her sway.

"That was my brother," she whispered. "My dad... my dad tried to kill Keelan."

Keelan Daniels, her human cousin, the one that had a twin werewolf brother, and was sick, so overcome with sickness that even Isaac could smell it. "Roy?" he demanded. Kendall wasn't part of his pack, but if Roy was going after young betas, he needed to take action. She shook her head slowly, and in a second, her eyes filled with tears and her lower lip started to tremble.

"No... Not Roy," she forced out. "My Dad, Steven. He's an Alpha now, and he's trying to kill off the humans in the family."

* * *

**Post-Chapter Note:**

**Sooooo... :D Predictions?! Opinions? Let me know!**


	18. A Request

Dearest Readers,

I had the next chapter prepared filled with intensity, development, and some Jackson goodness. It's been a really tough semester, but some messages from you guys inspired me to write, and I was excited. In my excitement, I googled some fan art WerewolfLover had made for me, and found an interesting image: a banner with the title of my story.

Confused, I visited the page, and was heartbroken by what I found: someone has been publishing my story as her own.

Normally I don't ask for more than input from my readers, but now I implore of you: please contact this writer, and kindly, but firmly, request that she take down the story I have put so much heart into. I honestly don't think I can find it in me to publish another chapter, knowing she will simply pass it as her own.

Her username is:

iAMmeeeCO414

Or just google the story name.

Thank you very much loyal readers, you have made this experience wonderful…


	19. Foot In 3 Doors

**Author's Note:**

**Dearest readers, I'm pleased to inform all of you that the copy of the story published without my permission has been taken down, and the party responsible has written me a personal apology. More than anything, however, I'm indescribably grateful to you guys, my readers, for the support you all showed. Really, you guys are incredible. Like, you don't even know HOW incredible.**

**So, here's an extra long chapter, with some important events! Some were requested (LOL guess which), others I hope are a bit of a surprise… I was so happy to read your reviews last chapter with predictions, and I read them over for inspiration. There's some Daniels action, Roy, Derek and Isaac, mostly from third person parties, because I felt it would be fun!**

**Really hope you guys enjoy the chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it! I apologize in advance for grammatical errors; I'm working with a new computer and word processor, and it deems my vocabulary as subpar and feels the need to "auto-correct" a lot. *bitter. Anyways...**

* * *

"Derek, why not?"

My demand echoes around the station, but I don't bother with keeping my voice down. It's late, and the hunters are too busy looking for the Kanima to be bothered looking for us. The betas are out also tracking the Kanima, and even as we speak, Derek's phone is vibrating in his pocket. I know what it means, but I don't care if Isaac or Boyd have found the damned glorified reptile: my family needs me, and Derek needs to understand that. He doesn't even look at me as he pulls on his jacket, signaling that he's done with the conversation and leaving.

"You know why," he states. "The betas have enough to deal with avoiding the hunters and finding the Kanima. I can't risk you going on your own and leaving us one member short."

"We killed your uncle with the help of teenagers weaker and less experienced than our betas! Give the babies some credit!" I exclaim incredulously. "And I wouldn't even be gone for long! Nick and Vince have a trail, and I'd be joining them and some of the Lockwoods-"

"The answer is still no," he insists, grabbing his keys and pulling his phone out of his pocket. I snatch the phone away, finally getting him to look at me. I'm baring my teeth even as the tears pour out of my eyes, but I don't bother to hide them. I'm desperate.

"Derek, I am _begging _you," I whisper. "_Please _let me go help them. I'm not even asking for the Pack to help, just for you to at least let me go for a couple of days. They need me."

His expression doesn't change, and it finally dawns on me that his mind is made up. Unable to utter another word, I drop the phone back in his hand and turn around, shaking my head. I pull on my jacket and wipe my tears roughly off on my sleeve, the embarrassment starting to hit home. Here I am, baring my weakness to my Alpha, who can't even look me in the eye without contempt. He comes up behind me, casting me in his shadow, but I ignore him and grab my bag off the floor. His hand falls on my shoulder.

"I have to make decisions based on what's best for the Pack," he says quietly, almost apologetically. "I can't-"

"Just save it, Hale," I mutter. "It was my mistake for thinking I could count on you." I brush off his hand, unable to even look at him as I shove past.

"Where are you going?" he calls after me. I roll my eyes.

"To do exactly what you said," I yell over my shoulder. "I'm off to see the hunters and find us a Kanima."

* * *

The hospital was surprisingly quiet for midnight.

Jeremy sat on a cushioned chair in the hospital waiting room, elbows braced against his knees as he stared into space, marveling at the quiet. While Beacon Hills' Hospital being quiet wouldn't be such a surprise given the size of the town, Jeremy and Keelan lived much closer to the city, and gang fights weren't an uncommon occurrence. It was more of a blessing, really, that the hospital ICU could focus solely on the care of his brother rather than multiple cases, but the quiet was unnerving for Jeremy. He was used to the sounds of his very loud, very lively family, and if not his family, then his lacrosse team. As the nurses passed by, it was no surprise that they all seemed to recognize him, and he them. Keelan had been steadily getting worse over the past several months, and while their mother was obligated to leave some nights to help Aunt Susan with the girls, Jeremy had always stayed in the hospital as long as his twin had. High school was a joke for them anyways with their high IQ's, and knowing the situation, their teachers cut them both a criminal amount of slack. While none of the faculty could say they knew what it was like to have a dying twin, they could all sympathize with having a loved one die from a disease.

Then again, it was highly unlikely any of them could sympathize at all with the situation he and his brother found themselves in at that particular moment in time. He doubted anyone's uncle just up and decided to try and kill their twin one day for choosing not to become a supernatural creature. He doubted any of them knew what it was like to carry said brother into the hospital, light enough to carry thanks to both the treatments that seemed to cause more damage than good, as well as the pints of blood lost in the passenger seat of the car; blood soaked into his shirt and jeans that he'd had to discard into a biohazard disposal bin and exchange for a set of mint green scrubs to keep from disturbing other patients.

The sound of heels clicking on the floor cut through his thoughts, and he looked up to see his cousin Conner. He recognized her scent and eyes immediately, but the rest of her appearance made him do a double take. The girl in front of him was definitely his cousin, but she was blonde, and wearing a dress, of all things, with _heels_. She looked absolutely ridiculous, but that could also be because he had a particular annoyance for anything Taylor Swift-related, and it was strange for him to consider she would ever want to dress up. In spite of everything, he couldn't help but snort when he saw her, and she glared.

"Not a word," she warned, then held out her arms for a hug. "Come here." Normally he would have rolled his eyes and acted like he was doing it for her benefit. Not then, though. Barely holding back tears, he bent down and wrapped his arms around her, gripping her tightly. She rested her chin on his shoulder and rubbed his back in comfort. "I'm so sorry this happened," she murmured, her voice controlled, but sincere. He nodded, then took a deep breath, stepping out of her embrace. "Where's Aunt Natalie?"

"She's with Aunt Susan," he replied. "They're hiding the girls until Uncle Steven calms down." It was only after he said it that he realized maybe he should have come up with a lie, but she didn't even flinch and merely nodded.

"Does anyone know where he is?" she asked. He shook his head.

"Nick, Vince and Hector are out looking for him," he replied, figuring that, at that point, there was no reason to hide that her family was in the area. "They were here an hour ago asking Keelan questions, but the medication made it pretty much impossible." She nodded again.

"Understandable."

"The Lockwoods should be arriving within the next fourth-eight hours, too. Aunt Susan made some calls."

"Good," she agreed. "They've always been fond of you guys."

"And of you," he reminded her.

She brushed off the comment by peeking off towards the ICU, clearly not wanting to talk about the Lockwoods anymore."We can't see him?"

"Not right now, they're running tests. They're only letting immediate family in anyways." She raised a brow and he rolled his eyes. "True, like they'd say no to you."

She put an arm around his waist, and he rested his on her shoulders. She seemed to know that he needed human connection; with Keelan on the other side of those doors, even if he was technically not that far physically, his lifeline was fighting to stay alive. They weren't identical twins, although they looked nearly identical, but they knew that neither would last long without the other. It was simply a fact of their existence: they weren't born as individuals, but as a set, and would live and die as such. The doctors may as well have put an expiration date on the both of them the day they diagnosed Keelan.

"Don't worry Jeremy, I'll make sure he pays," Conner whispered, squeezing him softly. Despite the good intention behind what she was saying, Jeremy knew she couldn't follow through.

"He's your dad, Conner," he reminded her. "Regardless of everything that's happened, he raised you."

"And now he's endangering the pack."

"His pack."

"How long were you all planning to hide that he's an Alpha?" she demanded suddenly. He looked away from her sharp eyes, knowing there wasn't a way he could talk his way out of that one. She waited, and under the pressure, he caved.

"We weren't planning to," he admitted quietly, as if lowering the volume of his voice would minimize the shame. "We'd suspected for years that he was an Alpha, but it wasn't until Uncle Steven relocated the Pack that he was open about the status."

Relocated; in other words, left Conner behind.

"So you all know he killed my mother, then," she pressed. Jeremy flinched, not expecting her to be so direct with the implication. She shook her head, letting out a small sigh. "Dammit, Jeremy. If you all knew he was crazy, why stay?"

"And live as omegas?" he said with a dry smile. "That would be like sentencing Keelan to death. You know we can't handle the medical bills by ourselves, and regardless, a shifter without a pack is weak. We've had no choice."

"And if you could find another Alpha?" she insisted. This time, he laughed outright, though with no humor.

"Conner, we don't fit with another pack," he stated. "The Lockwood Pack is full, and even if your pack wanted us, you and I both know Derek Hale's barely holding onto the few betas that he does have. At any moment, his pack will fall apart. It would be a temporary fix that wouldn't actually fix anything." He knew that she saw the reason in his words, but also knew she wouldn't acknowledge it. Conner was many things, and loyal was among the most prominent of them; Keelan had already warned him of the position being in Derek Hale's pack put her in. She was loyal to her Alpha, but yet there she was in the hospital with him, when they knew her pack was supposed to be tracking down a Kanima. "I know you want to help fix this, but there isn't anything you can do in your situation."

"Of course there's something I can do," she muttered. "There's always something."

"Not without going against your Alpha." At her silence, he looked down at her, barely managing to keep the hope out of his face. "Unless-?"

"He's already made his position in the whole thing clear," she cut in bitterly, "as well as my position. We need to stay focused on finding the Kanima, and I need to focus on my Pack. The most he's allowed me to do is hope that the Kanima just so happens to take care of Steven for us." Jeremy frowned in confusion.

"So are you saying that you're leaving his pack so you can do something?" he asked, knowing that wasn't the answer. She smiled and shook her head, then stepped back.

"I'm gonna do exactly what he asked me to do," she answered, flashing him a strange smile as she walked away. "Tell Keelan I stopped by?" At that moment, the doors to the ICU opened and two doctors stepped out, moving towards Jeremy. He rushed forward, forgetting almost immediately about his cousin's vague message, and paid rapt attention to what the doctors informed him. They gave him the expected spiel of the procedures they'd performed, assured him they'd been successful, and that they were waiting on test results to determine what options they could consider to work parallel with his treatments. Jeremy nodded at the cues, and the moment they said he could see Keelan, he bolted past them into the ICU, ignoring their shouts that they hadn't finished explaining.

He made it to the room in ten seconds flat to find Keelan laying in bed, a smirk on his face as if he'd been expecting to see him there. "I take it you aren't interested in the science behind them stitching me back together?" he said, the words coming out like a croak. Jeremy scoffed and dropped into the seat next to his bedside.

"You know I don't pay attention to that shit," he muttered, looking his brother over to see the full extent of the damage. The blood had been cleared up and the gash on his forehead was stitched up, so he looked much better than he had when he'd arrived. Even his pasty complexion looked less sickly, and his eyes were able to focus on him. Before, he hadn't even been able to see straight from the blood loss. Jeremy frowned at Keelan's arm resting on the crisp white bedsheets, three rows of stitches running along the inside. He grabbed the damaged arm without asking for permission and turned it over, counting again to make sure. His brother whined that his arm hurt, but he ignored him, needing to make sure.

Three rows of stitches.

When he'd carried his brother into the hospital, there'd been four gashes; not three.

He looked up questioningly at Keelan, but there was no real need for the tired grin of confirmation that he bore on his face, or for the nod. Jeremy felt his throat clench up and knew his brother could tell the tears were going to come at any moment, but he didn't care. "How do you feel?" Jeremy asked quietly, somehow managing to keep his voice steady. Keelan laughed hoarsely.

"Like we might have a tough time explaining to the doctors why I'll be fully healed within two days," he answered with a grin. "Give or take a day if it takes a while to kick the rest of the junk out of my system."

_The rest of the junk._

Keelan cleared his throat, clearly not wanting to linger too long on the ground-breaking news he'd just dumped on his twin. "So, where'd Conner go?" he asked. At Jeremy's look of mild surprise, he grinned again. "No, the hearing isn't kicking in; I just know that she'd be the first one here after you."

"You seem at ease about turning," Jeremy couldn't help but comment. "You know, for someone who preferred to die rather than accept the Bite?"

Keelan rolled his eyes. "You know that I didn't say no because I didn't want it," he murmured. He kept his voice low even if he knew nobody was listening in; if someone was, Jeremy would have heard it. The admission was simply one that he hadn't shared with anyone other than his twin. "I just didn't want it from him. Not after what happened with Leni, and then Conner." He cleared his throat. "Speaking of which, where is she?"

"She said she was going to attend to Pack business," he replied, shrugging. "Something about the Kanima you mentioned."

"They already have it, then?" he asked.

"Nah, they're tracking it down," he clarified. "Derek doesn't want her involved in our problems, so she's focusing on the Kanima for now."

Keelan's shoulders suddenly tensed, and his breathing caught. "Bull shit," Keelan growled, holding out his hand to his brother. "Give me my phone."

Not questioning the demand, Jeremy reached into his back pocket and handed him the phone. Quickly dialing a number, he held it up to his ear and signaled for Jeremy to close the door. Jeremy turned the lock just as whoever Keelan was calling answered.

"Derek Hale, this is Keelan Daniels," he greeted, all tiredness gone from his voice. "If Conner is with you, you need to restrain her immediately. If she isn't, you need to find her, now." Looking up at his brother, he gritted his teeth and took a deep breath. "She's tracking down the Kanima to use against her father."

* * *

Once I've geared up and am driving to Roy's house, I decide to take a chance and call Jackson. If plans haven't changed since last night, Derek has the baby betas out looking for the Kanima and has Erica trying to verify if the Kanima is Jackson, though I don't see the point in her investigation. If the Kanima isn't Lydia, then it has to be Jackson; the numbers don't add up to the possibility of there being yet another teenager bitten by an Alpha in the past couple of weeks. So, rather than scouring the town like Derek ordered, I'm going to meet with Roy to get some info from him on how to subdue said creature.

Which is why I'm calling now. In order to control the Kanima, I need to first find Jackson. Surprisingly enough, as I'm pulling into Roy's driveway, Jackson answers the phone.

"Conner? How did you get Jackson's number?"

Okay, maybe it isn't Jackson. "Stiles?" I question. "Why do you have Jackson's phone?" There's a scuffle on the other end, and a second later, the call ends. I call back, but it goes straight to voicemail, so I don't bother anymore. Apparently I wasn't the only one who came up with the idea of finding and subduing Jackson: Scott and Stiles must have found him, and are now hiding him from the manhunt my Alpha's at the head of. At least he's safe. Thankfully, this makes my job that much easier; if Scott and Stiles have Jackson, he'll be that much easier to find, and then interrogate.

I kill the engine of my truck, and my phone rings. The caller ID shows that it's Derek calling, so I stuff the phone into the glove compartment and get out of the truck. I can't deal with Derek right now, as my Alpha or as my sort-of boyfriend.

Roy is already waiting for me at the door with coffee as I walk up to his apartment. I can't help smiling as I accept the offered drink, the aroma of hazelnut and coffee wafting up from the mug. He smirks, pointing at my head. "You're blonde," he comments. I roll my eyes.

"Long story short, Stacey made me do it," I mutter, stepping inside. "It was either do a Taylor Swift performance, or lose my job. Do you have the book?"

"Yes, we do."

I'm only mildly surprised to see Gerard in Roy's living room this early in the morning. I swear he has some sort of man-crush on Roy and obsession with my training, because he just seems to be popping up everywhere we turn. His stalking might just be part of some sort of weird hunter-hazing ritual, though I have a feeling it has more to do with him being able to tell that we're hiding something. Honestly, even I know some of our stories don't sound believable at times.

He's sitting on one of the couches with a laptop open in front of him on the coffee table, and returns my smile with an enigmatic one of his own. God how I wish I could just gun him down where he stands; something about him creeps me out, and the word "evil" comes to mind with chilling certainty in regards to his persona. Yup, he's definitely the villain in my Pack's story, and here I am, pretending to be the protege.

The price to pay to keep one foot in two doors.

"Gerard," I greet with a nod. "Thank you for taking the time to help us personally; I understand how protective your family is of its bestiary."

"Oh, it's my pleasure," he assures me, then motions for me to sit next to him. "I owe Roy a few favors. I was actually quite surprised when Roy called and told me about the situation. What made you change your mind about infiltrating Derek Hale's pack?"

_My psychopath dad is chemically imbalanced and trying to kill my old family, and I need the information you have about the Kanima in order to take him out._

"He approached me this week," I answer instead. "He was itching for a fight, which means he still cares." I take a sip of coffee and sit down next to him so that I can see what's on the computer. "So, I pretended to be moved. He doesn't entirely trust my change of heart, so I promised to get him some information on the Kanima as proof."

"And maybe he'll provide some insight for us," Gerard muses, opening the desired file on the laptop. As the pdf is loading, he leans back and looks at me curiously. "You're handling betraying your friend pretty well."

"Friend?" I inquire confusedly. He nods.

"Isaac Lahey," he clarifies. I shrug tightly, making sure to not be too casual about it. That'd be suspicious.

"I'm not betraying him. I warned him about Derek, and he made a choice," I mutter, looking down into my coffee. "He hasn't done anything yet that makes him worthy of being hunted, so I'm hoping this will teach him to pick better company." The file finishes loading then, and I move closer to it in anticipation. As expected, the bestiary is really a series of scans of the original book, all written in archaic Latin. I can hold my own with normal Latin, but throwing the archaic variety into the mix makes it a little complicated.

"What exactly do you want to know about this Kanima?" he asks.

"Why it kills," I answer automatically, turning away from the screen and looking at him as he reads. "I know it goes after killers, but it doesn't make sense that it doesn't just go after every killer in the state of California. There has to be something limiting it."

"Very good," Gerard praises. "The Kanima doesn't work alone. It has a master, and that master commands it."

"Why does it need a master?" I question. "A Kanima seems to be too powerful to obey anybody."

"A Kanima is supposed to be a werewolf, but a conflict in its past causes it to take the Kanima form," he explains. Roy wanders over and sits across from us with his coffee. He seems bored with the conversation content, and I wonder how many times he's read the Argents' bestiary. Probably more than once. "In a similar way that Omegas seek out an Alpha, the Kanima needs a master."

I feel my heart beating in my throat, the excitement almost impossible to contain. This is big. This means that Jackson isn't the one we should be going after; his master is the one sending him after these people. "Can its master have it kill anyone?" I press, Isaac's father in mind. Gerard nods, reading on.

"Technically it can, though not without very dire consequences," he assures me. "It would appear that this Kanima's master doesn't seem to mind those consequences, which is quite strange."

"Unless the master has a very loose definition of the word "murderer"," I add, heaving a sigh. "I feel like we're dealing with a teenager." Roy scoffs, and I look up at him, raising a challenging brow. "Some input, Roy?"

"You've concluded from a page in the bestiary that the Kanima's master is a teenager," he repeats with a smirk. "Please, elaborate, oh psychic one."

"I originally assumed the Kanima controlled itself," I admit. "Derek's been turning teenage misfits, and it seemed too convenient that the Kanima would show up the first full moon after he became an Alpha. That's what led me to believe that the Kanima was a teenager, and to investigate a motive."

"And?" Roy urges, still with a smirk.

"I'm still working on it," I say quickly, waving a hand. "But think about it. The Kanima is most likely a teenager, so wouldn't it make sense for its master to be someone he or she comes in contact with regularly, like a friend or a classmate? And if the consequences of using the Kanima to kill innocents are _so _bad, don't you think a rational adult would have stopped already?"

A brief silence passes, and I can tell by Roy's expression that he isn't convinced. "While it does make a strange sort of sense, assuming Derek Hale has only bitten teenagers, your argument isn't solid enough to send hunters investigating Beacon Hills High," he finally says, albeit apologetically. "The master could just as easily be a parent or a teacher. We need more to run on."

"That's fair," I reluctantly agree, though I don't agree at all. "I admit it's a stretch assuming that teenagers are behind all of this." Roy nods and takes a drink of coffee, silently ending the discussion. In all honesty, I'm wondering how long it's going to take these men to realize that the whole of the town's supernatural activity currently centers around Beacon Hills High School. If the Kanima is a teenager, it only makes sense to me that its master be one as well. Then again, they don't know yet that the Kanima is Jackson. Hopefully it'll stay that way; Scott and the baby betas don't need any more heat than they already have.

Gerard's looking at me, and after ignoring it for several seconds, I turn to him questioningly. "Do you have enough to take back to Derek Hale?" he asks. I consider it for a moment.

"I think I'll lead him on the teenager idea," I reply with a shrug. "If it's not true, then it'll keep his Pack busy while we follow other more likely leads."

"And if your theory is true?"

I shrug again. "Then he'll take care of the problem for us, and we'll just sit back and watch."

A strange smile crosses his face then, and I feel uncomfortable chills run down my spine. "Spoken like a true hunter," he praises, patting my shoulder fondly. "You take after your father." I look up at Roy, and notice that although he isn't looking directly at us, a faint smile has crossed his face.

"She'll be slaying Alpha's soon enough," Roy agrees quietly. "Making her father proud."

And, for the first time since I started to weave this complicated web of lies that keeps me a part of the Pack and a hunter, I feel a pang of guilt.

If I was just focusing on being a hunter, then this would be a bonding experience with my long-lost biological father. I could be building bridges we lost the chance to build for seventeen years, and creating a father-daughter dynamic that will work for us. Instead, I'm deceiving everyone, and while I don't care about any of the hunters feeling betrayed, for a moment, I contemplate what it would be like to lose him.

And the thought makes me sick.

"I… have to go," I mutter, clearing my throat and getting to my feet. I turn to Gerard and smile awkwardly. "Thanks for the info." I can't look at Roy as I nod in his direction. "See you later."

As I close the door behind me, I catch a snippet of Gerard teasing Roy. "_I see you two have made much progress._"

Roy sighs. "_Can_'_t expect too much when we're so alike, can I?"_

Gerard's booming laugh seems to follow me all the way to my truck, again awakening that urge to simply end this hunt and get rid of the hunter the way my old pack would: by making him disappear. I shake the feeling off and climb into my truck, starting the engine before I even close the door. Killing Gerard isn't the priority right now. Right now, the priority is finding the Kanima. Once I have the Kanima, none of it will matter anymore.

Once I control it, everything will change.

Ignoring the sound of my phone ringing in the glove compartment, I drive towards Beacon Hills High, figuring that following Allison might be the best course of action to find Scott or Stiles and, consequently, Jackson. Of course, everyone's still in class when I reach school and park my car close to Allison's, but that's perfectly fine. It shouldn't be more than an hour, and then I'll let her lead me where I want to go.

My phone rings again, but the jingle is different this time: it's my brother, Nick. I scramble to open the glove compartment and answer on the second ring. "Hey," I greet in a rush. "Any news?" Nick sighs on the other end, and I feel my stomach drop. "Oh God. What happened?"

"He's lost it, Conner," Nick says resignedly. "The girls and Susan are all flying to Georgia to hide with Susan's old pack."

"That's good, the Lockwoods will keep them safe," I approve quietly. At his silence, I realize I missed something. "… Why are they leaving now?" When he doesn't answer, I assume the worst. "Did he hurt someone else?"

"Not one of us," he says carefully. "… He tried to attack Sam, but Camilla got in the way and gave the girls enough time to escape."

At first my heart leaps into my throat, but when he tells me the girls are safe, I feel relief swoop through me strongly enough to bring tears to my eyes. "Oh thank God," I whisper, clutching my chest and taking a deep breath. It takes me several moments to collect myself. "Nothing can happen to those girls, Nick. I'd die."

"I know," he murmurs in agreement. "That's why we sent them to Georgia. As far as we can tell, he's still in California tracking down the rest of the humans. Even if he does get to Georgia, the members of the Lockwood pack that are staying local will protect them to the death."

"That still isn't good enough. He needs to be put down."

"We're working on that, Conner." He hesitates, and I already know what he's going to ask. "Conner… Derek-"

"Already said no," I interrupt quietly. "Believe me, I tried to convince him."

"Damn," he curses under his breath. "Conner, you need to take care of yourself. In his right mind, Dad would never go into Argent territory, but…"

"If he comes here, I'll be ready for him," I assure him. "Remember, I have hunters and betas to back me up."

"Speaking of betas…" he trails off, then continues. "Camilla's human, and Dad bit her."

"Which means she's either dead or turning," I finish, then groan. "Damn."

"Would Hale let you track her down?"

"I'll take care of it," I say, avoiding answering the question. "What does she look like?"

"Um…" My brother never stammers, so I can't help feeling confused. "Well… kinda like… you."

"Oh." I blink, brows raised in surprise. "Well, that's… awkward."

"Yeah…"

At that moment, Allison steps out of the school, looking over her shoulder nervously as she scurries to her car. I slide down my seat so I can still see her, but she can't see me watching. "I have to let you go," I breathe, sliding my key into the ignition so I'll be able to turn it the moment she pulls out of the parking lot. "Call me if anything else happens."

It doesn't take long for her to lead me where I want to go. She makes a two-minute stop at a fast food joint, and then we're on our way to the reserve. Once I realize where they're hiding him, I stop following her and drive to my spot in the forest where I always go shooting. Thankfully I don't run into any of the betas there, and leave my car behind. Even if it's only Scott, Stiles and Allison guarding Jackson, I strap two guns to my shoulder holster and one to my ankle, in case Jackson chooses to shift and I need to neutralize him.

Picking up on the trail is actually quite simple. There's plenty of life in the preserve, but not many people drive through it with the disregard that they have. The stench of gasoline is quick to stand out, and once I've found the trail, the tires tracks are shamefully easy to follow. It's a reserve for a reason, for goodness' sake; a reason these kids clearly don't care for all that much. Oh well, I guess not everyone can have safe rooms or cabins at their disposal for uncontrollable shifts.

I keep an ear open for any of the betas, knowing that at this point, they must be wondering where I am. Derek should have all of his resources after the Kanima, but knowing Isaac, Isaac would find some point to sneak away and check my regular haunts, or call my cousins. And, if he did call, Jeremy would freak out that I'm MIA, and would be out looking for me, too. Letting out a sigh, I shake my head and pick up the pace. I only have so long before somebody manages to track me here and stop me.

Or help.

One can always hope.

The sound of conversation reaches me, and I immediately crouch down and take careful steps in that direction. I identify all three of the teenagers I'd expected to find there, debating over what to do with Jackson. Apparently the police now know Jackson is missing, and the reality of their situation is starting to set in: they've kidnapped somebody. Once I'm close enough to see Allison's car, I duck behind a tree and peek around it, assessing the situation.

The three stand in a small clearing by a cliff with the company of Allison's car and a county armored truck. It doesn't take a drastic amount of deductive reasoning to figure out that Jackson's in the armored truck, and much to my relief, the back of the truck faces away from where the three are standing.

Normally, I'd bid my time and pick the perfect moment to sneak over; right now, however, I know it's only a matter of time before someone finds me, and I need to get Jackson away before that happens. So, convincing myself they're enraptured enough in conversation to not notice little old me, I scurry over to the truck and hold my breath.

They all keep talking.

Slowly, very slowly, I take a hold of the handle keeping the door shut and turn, taking my sweet time doing so to make sure that nobody hears. I hope against hope that the handle doesn't creak, and halfway up, it does. The sound is loud, but short, and I hear Scott stop mid-sentence. I stay frozen and hold my breath, waiting to see if he'll investigate. After a moment, he continues what he was saying, and I let out a slow, quiet breath of relief. The handle doesn't creak anymore until the very end, a noise Scott again ignores, and I hold a hand firmly to the door to make sure it doesn't just pop open when I unlock it.

Inch by careful inch, I ease the door open enough to look inside. Jackson's sitting there, handcuffed at the hands and ankles like a criminal, and watching me in tense silence. He seems to know why I'm here, and strangely enough, his eyes seem to almost fill with tears at the sight of me. Apparently this has been quite the experience.

Once I've opened the door enough, I slip inside and pull it almost shut behind me. He holds up his hands so that I can see the shackles, and not wasting a beat, I reach into my back pocket and pull out the Swiss Army knife my brother gave me. After fiddling with the lock for all of thirty seconds, I mentally curse and flip out the simple blade, fitting it into one of the chain links. Trying to be as quiet as possible, I twist the blade with wolf strength, and the chain breaks. Jackson quickly holds the chain attached to his other hand straight for me and I break that one too, only to freeze at the sound of footsteps approaching.

"You done eating yet?" Stiles calls. I look at Jackson with alarm, nodding at the door that I can't close without making noise, and he clears his throat.

"I'm taking a piss, dumb ass," Jackson yells, rolling his eyes. "Unless you're trying to get a peek, stay away." That's all it takes for Stiles to walk away, muttering something about not wanting another look at his junk. Figuring I'll ask exactly what he means by that later, I move on to breaking the chains at his ankles, keeping an ear open in case one of them decides to return.

The moment he's free, I gesture for him to follow me out, quietly. I peek outside the door and listen, but hear that the three are out by the cliff again, discussing their next course of action. Grabbing Jackson's hand, I step down form the truck, pulling him along behind me. We carefully close the door, and being careful not to make a sound, slowly walk away. Once we've put a good enough distance between us and the hideout, we break into a run, Jackson following my lead. Within minutes we've reached my truck, and with a sense of relief, I start my truck and bolt out of the forest for the main road.

"How'd you know where to find me?" Jackson asks once we've reached the main road. "Actually, how'd you even know I was missing?" Neither of us have dared speak yet, but something about reaching civilization has reminded him of his ability to communicate. An adrenaline-fueled grin on my face, I wave a hand as if it was nothing.

"Followed Allison from school," I explain, "and the Argents tipped me off that you were missing. Gerard Argent, as principal, was informed you were missing, and knowing that we're friends, he contacted me, so I called your phone. Stiles answered, so I safely assumed the trio was behind it."

"Thank God," he mutters. "They've been keeping me there since last night."

"Do you know why?" I ask carefully. He tenses momentarily, and I hear his heart rate pick up.

"… No," he answers after a brief silence. "I don't." I raise a brow at him to let him know that I'm aware he's lying, and he rolls his eyes. "Fine," he surrenders. "They think I'm a… Kanima."

"And are you?"

He gives me a look that makes it clear he doesn't, but I'm not easily deterred. "You might not know it if you were," I reason. "Even us wolves, we sometimes blank out when we shift." I bark a laugh. "Geez, after I shifted on my first full moon, I woke up stark naked in the woods covered in dirt and blood." I look at him again, and shrug a shoulder. "It isn't that far-fetched, all things considered."

We elapse into silence, during which I consider what to do next. As if on cue, my phone rings in the glove compartment, and Jackson gives me a wary look. "Aren't you going to answer that?" he asks. I shake my head.

"Nope."

"…Why?"

"Because I'm pretty sure it's Derek," I reply honestly with a sigh. He raises a brow.

"You guys break up or something?"

I smirk. "What, you suddenly going for blondes, now?" I tease. He smirks back.

"Nah, I personally prefer red-heads. Dye your hair back, and then we'll talk." I can't help but laugh at that, relieved that he doesn't bring up the phone thing again even as it starts up a minute later. "But seriously," he says then, his voice actually dropping to a serious tone. "What happened? I thought you were pro Pack loyalty and all that crap."

"I am," I argue, immediately on the defensive. "Nothing is more important to me than the Pack." At his urging look, I groan and explain through gritted teeth. "I really needed his help, and he refused."

"Was it important?"

I scoff. "Life or death."

"Then why stay?"

"Because," I begin, then stop. We've reached a red light, and suddenly, I realize I don't know what to say. It takes me almost an entire minute to conjure an answer, and even then, it feels slightly forced. "Because that's not what pack mates do." I take a deep breath, and go on. "We stick it through, even when the going gets tough."

"Sounds to me like he's taking advantage that you actually believe in all of that shit," he mutters. At my perplexed look, he holds up his hands in defense. "Hey, I'm just saying. I understand jerks."

"No kidding," I breathe, considering the possibility. It's actually a rather insightful observation for Jackson to make, and I can't hide that I'm mildly impressed. "Wow."

"Don't act so damn surprised."

"Sorry," I apologize quickly, just as the light turns green. "I just hadn't thought about it that way."

"But you're the expert on Pack crap," he relents. A frown crosses his face as he looks out the window, confusion crossing his face. "Hey, where are we going? Aren't we supposed to be going to the police station?"

I cringe, turning on the radio and bracing myself. "Yeah… About that…"

* * *

**That Night:**

Isaac was starting to learn that short, vague messages from the Alpha consistently led to bad news. Three sets of claw marks along the wall by the station's entranceway indicated there had been a fight earlier, and the blood drops on the floor meant it had been a bad one. Erika and Boyd had been with him looking for the Kanima all day, so it couldn't have been any of them. It had to have been Scott or Conner. In the back of his mind, Isaac hoped the fight had been with Scott. Derek and Conner had gotten into fights that had escalated to them exchanging blows, but the shattered crates the betas encountered as they ventured farther inside their home made Isaac's stomach drop. He didn't know if the two of them could recover from a fight that intense, and he didn't want to have to deal with Derek without Conner as a buffer.

Derek was cleaning up the training area when they reached him. Well, "cleaning" wasn't the most appropriate term; "piling wreckage into a corner" better described what the Alpha was busying himself with. Dusting off his hands, he turned to them with a clearly irritated expression. "Have any of you heard from Conner?" he asked. It wasn't lost on Isaac that, though the question was directed at the group, his eyes were focused on Isaac with a hint of accusation in them. Erika and Boyd shook their heads, and Isaac took out his phone.

"Not since early this morning," he answered, checking his phone history. "She wanted to know how the search was going."

Derek took the phone from him and read the messages. His jaw tightened and he handed Isaac the phone back with a scowl. "Great. Just great."

"What's going on?" Erika asked, looking between Isaac and Derek. "Is Conner missing?"

"Oh, we have a good idea of where she is." They turned to see a tall, well-built teenager exit the shower room, his eyes glowing the characteristic blue of a natural-born werewolf. He wore only a pair of jeans and was toweling his blond hair dry as he looked the betas over with casual indifference. Isaac recognized him as Conner's cousin Jeremy, the werewolf twin who wasn't dying of some unknown disease. While he and his twin looked very much alike, their personalities couldn't be more different, and where Keelan was calm and calculating, Jeremy seemed more of a "shoot first, ask questions later" kind of person, and had no qualms about confrontations ending in blows. Their attention immediately focused on a gash he had on his stomach that was very slowly healing, but he didn't seem too bothered by. The mystery as to who the fight had been with was officially solved, and Isaac felt relieved. The pack would last another day. Once Jeremy's eyes stopped glowing, he nodded at Isaac. "You're the last one she contacted?"

"She was asking about the search," Derek stated, leading the four betas to the center of the station where they normally conducted meetings. Jeremy sat on a crate separate from the others, resting an elbow on his knee as he held the towel to the injury to stop the bleeding.

"What's he doing here?" Erica asked, gesturing at Jeremy. Jeremy snorted.

"_He _is here because the last time I saw my cousin, she looked about ready to kill something, and now she's missing," he answered pointedly. "I came here to make sure she wasn't off actually killing something, but seeing as she's gone, I hate to say that we have a bit of a situation."

"What happened?" Isaac demanded, alarm threatening to take over. "She didn't mention anything to me." Jeremy looked up at Derek disbelievingly.

"You haven't told them about what's going on?" Derek didn't respond, and Jeremy laughed dryly, shaking his head. "Guess who gets the Alpha of the Year Award…!"

"Like I told you before, I needed them to focus on finding Jackson," Derek defended.

"Haven't told us what?" Isaac exclaimed. "Where's Conner, and is she okay?" Jeremy shook his head and fixed a glare on Derek.

"You see Isaac, our Uncle Steven- you know, Conner's non-biological father, and Alpha of the Daniels pack- attacked Keelan the other night because he refused to take the Bite from him. Keelan is sick enough with the treatments, so the attack has him in ICU. Conner showed up at the hospital, and as you can imagine, she was upset." Derek balled his fists and turned away, apparently already knowing how the rest of the story developed. Isaac could feel the alarm building in the back of his mind, knowing how much she cared about her two cousins. "My brother called your Alpha and warned him about her emotional state, but he assured us that he had the situation under control." He shrugged. "We decided to take it in good faith. Now, several hours ago, I received a call from my cousin- Conner's brother, Nick- warning me that Uncle Steven had attacked Camilla."

Apparently Isaac's confusion showed on his face, because without a cue, Jeremy explained who this so-named Camilla was. "Camilla is a runaway Uncle Steven and Aunt Susan took in a couple of months ago. She's become a sort of cheap Conner substitute."

"That's messed up," Erika muttered. Jeremy looked at her confusedly.

"Did anyone ask for your opinion on our family dynamic?" he asked. Her jaw dropped, and he took advantage of the opening to continue. "The point is, Conner could care less about the girl; what worries us is that the girl was all but mutilated protecting Samantha, Conner's younger sister. Sam's eleven, human, and barely made it away in time, while Camilla, the runaway, is MIA, and either dead or turning."

"Jesus," Boyd muttered. Erica's face visibly paled as Jeremy continued the story.

"So, taking into consideration the fact that Conner would die for Samantha, I looked for Hale here to ask where she was, and to warn him that she would definitely go AWOL when she got the news," Jeremy concluded. "But guess what? Not only did he not know where she was, but he had no idea she was going against his orders to stick to the Argents and listen for any information on the Kanima. It took Scott McCall and Stiles showing up asking questions for him to realize that she's now tracking her father down, with a _Kanima_, of all creatures, to help." He cocked his head to the side. "Did I miss anything?"

"I told you that I talked to her," Derek defended. Jeremy scoffed.

"And you actually believed she'd listen to you? Spy on the Argents for the day rather than help her family?"

"I'm her Alpha!" Derek yelled. Jeremy laughed.

"How long is it going to take you to realize she isn't just a beta?!" he barked. "She's a Blackbird, you idiot! Don't you know what that means?"

There was the briefest of silences as Derek came up with an argument before the betas cut in.

"She has the Kanima?"

"What are we going to do?!"

"We need to track her down before she loses Jackson!"

"What if the Argent's-!"

Derek held up his hands to silence them and, with gritted teeth, nodded. "Scott confirmed that she has the Kanima," he answered, addressing Erica's question first. "He and his friends were keeping Jackson in an armored truck on the reserve. Scott couldn't trail him, but Conner's scent was all over the truck, so he came here to see if it was our idea. As far as we know, she still has him."

"She's gone rogue and stolen a Kanima on her own," Erica stated with a frown. "She's made her choice. What are we supposed to do about it?"

"Help her," Isaac interjected, glaring at her. "She's one of us, even if she's acting out. The Kanima is too strong for her to handle on her own. She's dead meat."

"I'm sure she's armed with an arsenal of hunter's tools," Erica pointed out, raising a brow. "She can handle herself. Let her go kill her father: one less bastard to worry about."

"Now, if you don't mind me saying," Jeremy cut in, eyes focused on Erica with a hint of pity, "Conner's real father is a hunter, and Uncle Steven is an Alpha. Her chances against a Kanima are slim as is without adding an Alpha, and if she doesn't kill the latter, Uncle Steven will kill her himself, leaving you all without your strongest beta. Now, to top it off, if anything happens to Conner because of the Daniels pack, Roy Blackbird will kill us all." He shrugged a shoulder. "He warned as much a year ago. That's why Uncle Steven had us relocated. And, considering you guys are her new pack, I wouldn't put it past him to count you all as partially responsible, as well."

"We can handle a hunter," Boyd said with certainty. Jeremy laughed.

"Yes, never mind she could _die_, I'm sure even you guys could handle a _human_ hunter," he agreed. "The problem is that the Blackbirds aren't all human."

"What?" Erika demanded. "If they're not human, what are they?"

For once, Jeremy didn't respond to her with immediate sarcasm. He considered his words carefully, looking between Isaac and Derek before letting out a heavy breath. "You guys really don't know anything, do you?" It wasn't a jest, but rather a statement of fact. At Derek's glare, he sighed. "You wouldn't know of him as Roy Blackbird," he explained, grabbing a shirt off the floor and pulling it on. "After his father died, he took up the family mantle and continued his work under his father's alias of Alpha Hunter."

Derek immediately stiffened, and the betas looked at him questioningly. "Roy Blackbird is the Alpha Hunter?" he asked through gritted teeth. Jeremy smiled humorlessly.

"And guess who's supposed to be his successor?" The exchange held a weight that the betas couldn't understand and Derek didn't explain as he processed whatever he'd just learned. "Exactly. Now understand why it's so important she doesn't go after Uncle Steven? She doesn't know it, but she'll be signing her own death wish and all of ours if she goes after him and fails." He looked at Isaac then with a hint of genuine sadness. "And I know you look up to her, but if she goes up against him, Kanima or not, she will fail. I guarantee it."

Isaac gulped and turned to Derek, silently pleading with him to say something. After almost a full minute of silence, Derek let out a breath, and nodded. "We need to find her, and Jackson," he concluded, pointing at Erica. "You, go check Conner's regular places and see if you can track down where she took Jackson. You two." He gestured at Isaac and Boyd. "We find Conner."

"And I'll keep you guys updated in case word comes of Uncle Steven dying by Kanima," Jeremy added, waving shortly as the group split up.

* * *

Roy couldn't help the bite of betrayal as he approached his destination in the industrial sector of Beacon Hills. The few warehouses that were still operational had all closed for the night and there were no hints of human activity, but he drove on, his laptop on the passenger seat assuring him that he was going the right way. Surely enough, he turned a corner and saw a large steel rolling door rolled up part way-with a very human-shaped dent in it. Apparently, the fight had started without him. He killed the engine of his personal car, a sleek black BMW with a near-silent engine, and checked to make sure his guns were loaded. Not that he'd really need them much, not with how pissed off he was.

He stepped out of the car and made his way to the door. Shouts of protest, yells of anger and the general sounds of a werewolf fight erupted from behind the door. No matter how many Alphas he hunted, the raw animal instinct of shifters always put him on edge. Leni had been the exception, and even so, he hadn't seen her shift on too many occasions. It was probably for the better; even if he'd loved a shifter, he was still a hunter, and he hunted her kind for a reason. Out of reflex, he pulled his gun out of its holster and took the safety off, ready to shoot the first thing that moved. It was clear that there was more than one shifter in the warehouse, and he would bet his car that the Kanima was one of them.

In one swift move, he ducked under the door opening and found himself inside the warehouse. He noticed many things at once, and immediately reached for his gun. The first thing was the Kanima standing only meters away, its back to the hunter, tail sweeping side to side. Second was Conner crouched in a defensive stance in front of the Kanima, blood dripping freely down from her forehead onto her face. Her blonde hair was matted with the liquid and sticking to her cheeks and neck, but she didn't bother to brush it out of her field of vision, standing utterly and completely still with her hands held out in front of her. Third, and possibly the most surprising part for Roy, was that two young men stood behind Conner, two betas he recognized as Vince and Nick Daniels, Conner's older brothers.

Rather than react to his arrival and attack as Roy had expected the betas he hadn't fathered to do, everyone stilled. Neither of the betas moved, frozen in a sudden silence that had even Roy holding his breath. The Kanima hissed quietly, but the menacing sounds it had been making only seconds before had ceased. It cocked its head to the side, and as Roy watched, Conner did the same, and, of all things, smiled. While Conner's blue eyes focused on the Kanima, her brothers watched her warily, as if anticipating her next move. She held out her hand in invitation, and suddenly Roy realized what she was doing. The Kanima reached forward, and right before their eyes, its hand changed from being a green and scaled claw to a light, very human hand.

A clatter from outside the warehouse broke the spell. With a snarl, the Kanima snatched it hand back, slashed its tail out at the betas, and bolted past them. Nick Daniels managed to dodge the attack, but Conner and Vince weren't so lucky, both of their arms cut deeply. Vince collapsed almost immediately, but Conner only stumbled backwards in surprise. In under two seconds the Kanima scaled the wall and broke through a window, effectively escaping into the night. Nick didn't bother to pursue it and neither did Roy, but Roy didn't put his gun away as the werewolf turned and faced him.

The hatred dripped from Nick Daniel's glare like poison, and Roy could understand the sentiment; because of him, the beta had been forced to cut all contact with his younger sister. Well, clearly not _all _contact. He would need to have a talk with Steven to sort out the details of their arrangement, but later. Nick broke his gaze away and knelt next to his brother, rolling the beta onto his back into a more comfortable position. Conner groaned and held the gash on her arm to her shirt, applying pressure to stop the bleeding until her healing factor kicked in. She looked up at Roy with a frown, clearly confused.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. He shrugged a shoulder, keeping an eye on the tense Nick. He was lucky Vince was the one knocked out; between the two brothers, Vince was the one more likely to lose his temper.

"Tracked your phone when you didn't answer my calls," he replied honestly. Well, semi-honestly. The reasons behind him tracking her had more to do with him suspecting that her true allegiance lied with Derek Hale, but there was no need to bring that subject up in front of her estranged brothers, not when he didn't know how much they knew, and especially not after the power she'd just displayed. Right in front of her older brothers, she'd started to force a shifter to un-shift: a power that made even the most powerful of Alphas feel a certain level of fear. A power he'd taken years to perfect, and she'd tapped into in a matter of weeks. He'd pictured the day she'd started to tap into her Blackbird genes and he'd have to explain what it meant to be his daughter, but he'd never expected it would be like that.

She nodded distractedly, looking back at her brothers. Nick was lifting Vince onto his shoulders in a fireman's hold and carrying him to the truck of her pick-up truck. She was completely unaware of the gravity of what had just happened, and Roy figured it was for the best. There would be time later to explain. He cleared his throat. "So, you're immune to the Kanima's poison?"

She blinked and turned back to him, nodding quickly. "Yeah, uh, I've known for a while," she admitted, scratching the back of her head. "Wolfsbane, too." She winced, and when she pulled her hand away, her fingertips were smeared with blood. "Geez, he got us good."

"He?" Roy repeated. He didn't miss the fact that Nick and Conner both tensed, but he didn't point it out. He'd figure it out eventually.

"Seemed male," she muttered. "Punched more than it scratched. Also saw some pictures in the bestiary about its anatomy and whatever. Not to say I saw its junk, but you know..." He pretended to accept that, but nodded at her brothers in silent question. She jabbed a finger towards the two werewolves and managed to keep eye contact as she answered. "They're tracking a missing member of the pack, and tracked me down for help. They got here right before the Kanima showed up."

"And you?" he pressed. "This isn't exactly your normal hangout."

She cringed. "Yeah…" she trailed off sheepishly. "I was following a trail."

"Without back-up?"

"I wanted to be sure the trail was legit before calling," she defended. "You said as much this morning: I can't call in the army unless I'm certain." A good excuse. A lie, certainly, but a believable one, at least. Satisfied with what he'd found, Roy put his gun back into it holster.

"Nick," he called. The towering beta glared at him, but Roy was unaffected. "It's safe to assume your pack will be cleared out by the morning?"

"Within the hour," he growled. "Too many damn hunters in this town."

"The roads should be clear, but avoid the forests," he advised. Conner missed Nick's look of disgust as he dropped his brother into the trunk, seemingly oblivious to the tension between the two men-well, three, if Vince could count in his paralyzed state. "You, will I be seeing you later?" he asked, directing the question at Conner. She shook her head, examining her arm. Already the cut was healing, but she couldn't seem to look away from where the cut had been.

"Derek," she said in a murmur, as if it explained everything. It didn't. The word _Derek_ left much room for interpretation: a conversation with Derek? Coffee with Derek? A whole night with Derek? Even if their father-daughter dynamic wasn't the most traditional, the thought of his daughter spending the night with a man, much less an inexperienced Alpha, set him on edge enough that he decided it was time for him to leave.

"Then I'll see you tomorrow," he concluded. She nodded, now wiping the blood off of her face. She seemed very distracted, and Roy knew the feeling. After forcing an un-shifting, it was normal to feel jumpy and/or slightly disconnected from reality. Because it had been a minor surge, he calculated that she'd be back to her normal, alert self within twenty minutes or so. Nodding at Nick, if only to piss him off, Roy ducked out of the warehouse and hurried to his car.

His daughter, _his _Conner, had almost un-shifted a Kanima, and would now go infiltrate the local werewolf pack. It was a battle between a fatherly swell of pride and worry, both of which merited an ice cold beer with Chris at his house. Pulling out his cellphone, he dialed his friend's number and lowered himself into his car. He'd definitely earned the rest of the night off.

* * *

It had been several hours since Derek had ordered the search, and absolutely no progress had been made. The Kanima hadn't attacked, Jackson was still missing, the Daniels were apparently still on their deranged Alpha's trail, and Conner was nowhere to be found. Erica and Boyd had turned in for the night around four AM, and Derek had sent Isaac home once six rolled around. Normally Isaac stayed at the station, but with his exoneration and the comforts of an actual shower and bed, he'd been opting to stay at his own home as of late.

Which meant there shouldn't have been anyone in the station, and yet he heard a steady heart beat coming from inside his cabin.

Already suspecting who it was, Derek stepped up to the door and slid it open, flooding the subway car with light. Lying on the mattress with her arm slung across her eyes was Conner, looking worse for wear, but perfectly alive and completely alone. She lifted her arm from her face and squinted at him in the light, indicating she must have been fast asleep when he arrived. Her jacket, socks and shoes were thrown in a corner, leaving her in only a camisole and jeans, both covered with a light layer of dust and speckled with blood. Despite the state of her clothes, her face was clean and her hair was wet, meaning she'd taken advantage of the subway shower she and Isaac had installed before invading his bed. She smiled tiredly at him as he closed the door behind him and turned the makeshift lock.

"I owe you a phone call," she said in a croak, sitting up on the bed and resting her elbows on her knees. He crossed his arms and raised a brow.

"You could start with explaining where you've been the last twenty-four hours," he suggested calmly. She nodded in agreement, running a hand through her shoulder-length blond hair.

"Yeah, about that…" She let out a sigh and shook her head. "It's been crazy."

"Your cousins seemed under the impression that you were taking Jackson to go after your father," he stated, not bothering to beat around the bush. They'd never had the kind of relationship built on coy passive aggressiveness, and he wasn't planning to start playing games any time soon. "We just spent the whole night combing the city for you to make sure you weren't really that stupid. We assumed you were long gone, but seeing as it takes more than just a couple of hours to pull off such a feat as killing an Alpha…"

"I really considered it," she admitted with clear reluctance. "Hell, while I was looking for Jackson, the possibilities seemed endless." Letting out a breath, she dropped her forehead into the palm of her hand. "But then I had him, and I realized I was letting my anger cloud the fact that the Kanima is _Jackson_, the kid I insisted your uncle let into his pack only weeks ago. He's my responsibility too, for helping him get the Bite in the first place."

"So what did you do?"

She motioned for him to sit with her. Rather than sit next to her, he sat across from her, indicating she wasn't forgiven yet. Hurt crossed her eyes, but she quickly masked it with indifference. "I took him to a warehouse separate from town," she began, her steady heartbeat backing up the truth. "My brothers were in town, so I called them so they could take Jackson to a safe house. While they were on their way, I tried to convince him of the truth."

"I'm sure that went well," he muttered sarcastically. She rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, it was overly optimistic," she admitted. "But, he knows he can count on me."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Jackson isn't aware of what happens when he's the Kanima," she explained, "but he was very much aware of what was going on when he started shifting." Her eyes seemed to glaze over momentarily as she remembered something, and when she spoke again, her voice was a little thicker with emotion. "He was terrified." She took deep breath. "He begged me to make it stop."

A short silence passed between them, and when Derek felt he could speak without being overly insensitive, he did. "So you think he'll seek you out when he's human again?"

"I hope so," she whispered. She blinked, snapping out of her sadness. "By the way, I told Gerard I'm spying on you now."

"Did he believe it?"

"You bet," she muttered bitterly. "The old perv was delighted to hear I'd be meeting you tonight." Before he could say anything else, she reached forward and gripped his hand, forcing him to look at her. Her yellow eyes gazed imploringly at him, and for a moment, he forgot that he was supposed to be upset with her. She ducked her feet underneath her and lifted herself onto her knees, bringing her eye level with him. He didn't back away and she didn't move any closer, just held his hand. "I need you to trust me," she whispered, her breath fluttering lightly across his face. "Even if they think I'm on their side, I need you to know I'm with you."

_I'm with you._

"Yes, I'm pissed you didn't let me go help my family," she admitted quietly, "but you guys are my pack, not the Daniels. They've stuck together and added new members to their pack, adapted to their circumstances, and it's time I do the same. I'm not abandoning them, but for now, my brothers can handle Steven." She took a shaky breath and rested her other hand on his shoulder. He kept his face composed, but where her skin touched his, he felt like it was charged with electricity. "I'm not going to disappear anymore."

"I've heard that before," he said, his voice huskier than he'd intended. She nodded.

"I'll try harder this time," she assured him. He got a whiff of blood then, and with a frown, he leaned forward. If he wasn't mistaken, the smell was coming from her hair… Noticing his expression, Conner ran a hand along the back of her scalp and withdrew it, groaning when there was a small amount of blood on her fingertips. "Dammit, the cuts just won't heal- and just when I got it clean, too!"

"Did Jackson attack you?" he demanded. The sight of the blood awoke an anger in him that he wasn't overly familiar with, and he could only attribute to that of a protective Alpha.

"No, the Kanima did," she corrected, wiping her fingers off on her jeans. "Jackson was long gone." She smiled at him, cocking her head to the side. "Worrisome boyfriend, are you?"

He didn't answer, instead grabbing her shoulders and pushing her back onto the mattress before quickly following. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders before he crashed his lips against hers in a rough kiss, releasing some of the anger he'd felt towards her throughout the day. Without thinking of it, he grabbed the hair at the nape of her neck and held her in place as he kissed her harder, eliciting a moan from her lips as she tried to keep up. She untangled her legs from his and wrapped them around his waist, pulling him in closer while at the same time making it impossible to escape. Her fingers dug into his shirt and she jerked it up, demanding he remove the piece of clothing. After nipping her lip firmly, he pulled away so that she could take off his shirt, allowing her only a second to breathe before he lowered back and kissed her again. Without warning she flipped them over, holding him down by his shoulders and straddling his waist. She was breathing heavily, but the look in her eyes made it clear she had no intention of stopping, unlike the other times they'd found themselves in similar situations. He figured it had to do with the fact that the full moon was in a couple of days and that it had a tendency to make her more wild, in more ways than one. Regardless, he didn't think he could stop, even if he wanted to.

"No more messing with Erica," she stated breathily. The command caught him by surprise, but he knew she wasn't just referring to Erica; if they went there, that was it. No looking back. The idea was one that should have terrified him- correction, it did terrify him. He should have been clearing his throat and suggesting she go back to her apartment, but somehow he found himself nodding, and as if someone else was commanding him, his hand rested gently against her cheek.

"This is your pack," he said back. "Your _only_ pack." And a part of him knew that, at that moment, he meant it. He genuinely didn't care in that second that he'd given up a measure of freedom, in exchange for her. She nodded, closing her eyes and leaning into the palm of his hand. In a blink he turned them over again and stared into her eyes, searching for the deception, for the mischief. Kate had managed to make him feel safe, and he'd regretted the decision to trust her every day of his life. But there was nothing hidden in Conner's eyes, only a raw vulnerability that was humbling, of all things, to look upon. She pulled him towards her, ending the spell and, with an air of desperation and possession, the two gave in to the most basic of instincts and freedoms they knew.

* * *

**Post-Chapter Note:**

**Eeep! Opinions?!**

**Next chapter is in the makings, and school is finally over! Coming up, there's Stiles, more of the twins, Jackson, and some surprises! Let me know what y'all thought :D**


	20. Knocks and Rings

**Author Note:**

**So, I was really excited to write this and introduce a new character…! Your reviews have kept me going, and I've been having so much fun writing and reading what you guys think :D Tonight and tomorrow I'll be responding to reviews, but until then, thank you guys SO MUCH! Enjoy :)**

* * *

Originally, I'd believed that the challenge would be to sneak out of the subway station. From experience, I knew that Derek was a light sleeper, and at any given time there was an 85% chance of a beta crashing for the night in one of the others subway cars I'd fashioned into a room; as it so happened, however, neither of these factors came into play. By the time I woke up, Derek was long gone, giving me a sick feeling to my stomach, but also allowing a window of opportunity to get out undetected. Nobody showed up as I crept out around seven in the morning and got into my truck, and now as I pull into my regular parking space, the reality dawns on me.

My Pack was never the problem.

The challenge lies within my own apartment.

Immediately I look in the mirror and attempt to fix my hair, but it quickly becomes clear that there isn't much to be done. It was wet when Derek and I started making out, so when other compromising activities ensued, it dried in a gravity-defying manner and now has stray locks sticking out at very random angles. It doesn't help that I can smell blood caked in near the roots from the Kanima injuries that were taking a little longer to heal. When I finally decide there's no helping what I'm going to have to face, I sigh and grab my bag before climbing out of the truck. On the seat is the set of hastily balled-up sheets, and while it'd be more productive to get the wash out of the way, I decide against bringing them with me and leave them there.

The walk to my front door couldn't be any shorter no matter how much I drag my feet, and much too soon I find myself standing outside of my fort door, the faint smell of coffee mixed with bacon coming from the other side. Coffee and bacon has never smelled so foreboding, but taking a deep breath to gather myself, I grab the door knob and turn, pushing the door open.

Surely enough, my kitchen has been taken over by betas; rather than Jeremy, Nick and Vince as I'd expected, however, the kitchen is being run by Jeremy and, much to my shock, Keelan. My jaw drops at the sight of the cousin I'm sure is supposed to still be hospitalized making breakfast for three, and after Jeremy whistles at Keelan to catch his attention, they both turn to look at me. Keelan's face breaks out into an energetic grin.

"The prodigal beta returns!" he exclaims, throwing his hands in the air. "Aren't you supposed to be off stealing Kanimas?"

"Aren't you supposed to be in the hospital?" I automatically shoot back, my pride trumping my need to demand answers. He shrugs and turns back to the skillet of scrambled eggs he's working on cooking. Jeremy relieves me of my bag and I close the door, locking it for the safety reasons they tend to disregard on a regular basis, even in a town full of hunters. Keelan shrugs and turns off the burner, satisfied with the results.

"Yeah, see, there's this thing called 'the Bite'," he says dramatically, making air quotes with one hand. "It took care of the injuries."

"I thought you refused it, though," I point out, sitting at the counter. Looking him over, I have to admit I'm surprised I didn't notice the change the moment I opened the door. While his training in spite of the disease has always kept him relatively fit, his pasty coloring never helped, and he always looked tired; now, however, his skin is glowing with color, his movements are more precise and smooth, and his eyes are alert and clear. He looks healthy for the first time in years, and if I didn't know any better, I would say that he and Jeremy were identical twins. Well, honestly, everyone already thinks they are; the missing inherited wolf gene on Keelan's part and very small differences are the only indicators that they're actually fraternal twins. But that's beside the point.

Keelan nods and starts pulling plates out of the cabinets as Jeremy serves orange juice, his demeanor one of someone discussing how he switched between cell phone services rather than species.

"Yeah, well, Uncle Steven didn't exactly flip into human form when he tried to rip my face off," he reasons, raising his brows. "There were plenty of scratches to make sure I either died or turned."

"So we're stuck with him forever now," Jeremy says, finally speaking up. He places three cups of orange juice on the counter as Keelan starts serving eggs and bacon. "The Bite took care of the rest of the junk, too."

"'Rest of the junk'?" I repeat questioningly. Jeremy rolls his eyes and Keelan smirks.

"His words, not mine," Jeremy defends, jabbing a thumb at his twin. He gestures at the coffee maker. "Cup of joe?"

"Yeah, sure," I agree quickly, then turn back to Keelan. "By 'junk', do you mean…?" I trail off, almost not daring even to say it.

"Leukemia?" he finishes with a grin. "Yeah. Currently cancer-free."

A long silence passes. Keelan is watching my reaction, and I find I'm unable to speak. Cancer-free, Keelan. It seems too good to be true. Focusing, I sniff, and surely enough, the smell of death is no longer hovering over my cousin. My vision starts to blur with tears and a lump latches on to my throat, so just in time, Jeremy turns and hands me a cup of coffee.

"If he didn't let me get all sappy and emotional, you can't either," he states with a wink. I take a deep breath and nod vigorously, focusing my eyes on the aromatic liquid so as not to look at my cousin anymore. Keelan laughs, and just as he puts plates in front of me and his brother, a cell phone rings. Jeremy rushes over to read the message, and at Keelan and my questioning looks, he explains.

"Nick's calling a pack meeting. We need to meet him at the safe house in two hours."

"It's an hour drive; we have time to finish eating," Keelan decides, and without waiting for Jeremy to return to his seat at the counter, he starts to eat. Following suit, we dig in to breakfast, and admittedly, I'm a little jealous at how perfect he made breakfast. I've been cooking for myself and these two for a year now, and he still shows me up. It's embarrassing.

"So, Conner, are you coming with us?"

The question comes from Jeremy, and I all but choke on a bolus of food upon hearing it. Just yesterday morning he was reminding me how my pack situation didn't allow me to help, and now-?

"Jer," Keelan mutters warningly. Jeremy raises his brows innocently.

"Yes, Keelan?"

Keelan glares, and Jeremy rolls his eyes. "Come on! We could all use a break from this town. The Kanima hunt has been temporarily shut down, the Lockwoods arrive today, and the girls are in Georgia, so it's the perfect time for us to all get away!"

"Except the Kanima hunt won't be completely shut down until the Kanima _is shut down!_" Keelan argues. I clear my throat and raise a hand to stop them from arguing any further.

"I convinced Derek that our priority is to figure out who the Kanima's master is, so the hunt is down for the moment, but we're watching Jackson around the clock," I explain, giving Jeremy an apologetic look. "I'll either be Argent-spying or Jackson-watching."

"Speaking of Argent-spying, did you know your apartment was bugged?" Jeremy asks. I shrug.

"Figured as much," I murmur. "I'm guessing that it's safe to assume you two took care of it?"

"Yup," he confirms, jabbing a thumb at the trash can. "All gone, though they might have heard about five minutes of us discussing what a tool the doctor is."

"Doesn't sound all that incriminating to me."

"So if anyone asks, we're two ridiculously handsome men who play in a band at Stacey's," Jeremy suggests. Keelan grins in approval and I groan. "Hook us up with that cute hunter chick?"

"That 'hunter chick' is Allison Argent, and she's with Scott," I remind them teasingly, knowing full well that they're only joking. "They've got this whole Romeo and Juliet thing going for them."

"Oh gosh darn," Keelan mutters sarcastically. "I'm just gonna have to take my chances and go after Mara Lockwood." I frown in confusion and look at Jeremy, silently asking him to explain. He leans towards me conspiratorially as Keelan devours the rest of his meal.

"Mara is the Lockwoods' youngest daughter," he tells me quietly, though we know it's a moot point with Keelan right in front of us with enhanced hearing. "We've both been going after her since freshman year, but she says she can't date a human or a jock, so we've both been shot down."

"So now that Keelan has werewolf status…?"

"She'll have no excuse not to want me!" he concludes.

"And I can ask out Nikki!"

The twins are going on as if this whole thing is a joke, but there's a common theme in the conversation that wouldn't normally be there. I look between the two of them and hold up my fork to signal that they stop.

"What's up with you guys suddenly wanting to date?" I ask with the highest level of sincerity. "It's never really been your thing before, so why now?"

The boys exchange a glance with a silent message, nod, then Jeremy answers. "Full moon," he states, as if that is the answer to my question. When I still look confused, he sighs and waves a hand at Keelan, who takes over.

"You know how we're connected, right?" he says, gesturing between him and his brother. I nod. "Whenever the full moon would approach, even without being a beta, I'd share in a fraction of the restlessness."

"Okay…"

"Now that we're both betas, it's going to hit pretty hard," he continues, looking at me meaningfully. "You know, more than normal full moons." I'm still not getting it, and at this point he seems to be repressing the urge to break into laughter. "Conner, you can't tell me the full moon doesn't give you certain urges that only a significant other can fix!"

Ding ding ding!

"Oh."

Both boys burst into laughter as my cheeks flush in embarrassment. Of course they're talking about _those _urges, like the ones that consumed me last night within five minutes of spending time with Derek. Jeremy squeezes my shoulder as if assuring me that he still has faith in my, and I roll my eyes. "Yeah yeah, forgive me if I forget I'm talking to two teenage boys," I mutter. Their laughter dies down, and in comfortable silence, we finish breakfast. We're piling the dishes into the sink when one of the boys' cell phones rings again, and they exchange a look.

Knowing it's Nick, I wave a hand at them two. "Go," I urge. "Your soon-to-be-Alpha awaits."

"He's already acting like the position is his," Jeremy mutters. "It's not like Steven is still on the loose or anything." He rolls his eyes, but even so, he gathers up his duffel bag and jacket, signaling that he's going to obey regardless. Almost instinctively, I jump to my brother's defense.

"Would you rather somebody else be stand-in Alpha?" I ask. It's a rhetoric question, as we all know that Nick was pretty much born for the position. "There's always some tension as new pack dynamics fall into place. Just breathe through it, and you'll be fine. Nick is fair."

"Let's just hope that the Alpha power doesn't go to his head when he kills off the current tyrant," Keelan comments, and with that point I'm forced to agree: even the humblest of betas can become arrogant with Alpha power. Keelan looks at his watch and comes to my side and gives me a peck on the cheek. Jeremy follows, but when he leans in, he stops and sniffs. I frown. "What's up?"

"You smell funny," he states. I point at the back of my head.

"Yeah, it's blood," I explain. "Got hit pretty hard by the Kanima."

He still frowns and sniffs again. Now Keelan's paying attention, waiting for his brother to follow. "You smell like Derek, though," he presses. "And kinda like…" I know where he's going with this, and when I look over at Keelan, I can tell that he does, too. To spare me the embarrassment, he grabs Jeremy's arm and pulls him away, reminding him that they have someplace to be.

"But what were you doing?" Jeremy insists, clearly not understanding. Surrendering, I throw up my hands and laugh.

"You know, for someone organizing his full moon hookup, you sure have trouble recognizing the smell of sex," I state, raising a brow. "Derek and I had sex." His eyes nearly bug out of his skull and he starts sputtering threats on Derek's life as Keelan drags him away, ordering him to shut his trap before he starts a pack war. Keelan waves as he closes the door behind him and his brother, leaving it unlocked. Laughing to myself, I walk around the counter and lock the door.

Silence.

I heave a sigh and run a hand through my hair. That wasn't as bad as I'd thought it would be. Sure, I wasn't able to get away with not having the twins find out about the night's activities, but at least they didn't demand details; I'd been worried that Keelan would ask if he'd been a gentleman, or if I was going to be expecting puppies, etc., but thankfully I'd been spared.

Spared because they were busy joining my old pack to go kill my father.

And there it is. The lump clenches my throat again, and with a groan I drop my head against the door. Great. I can't just be angry because the man who raised me is trying to kill my family, I have to feel conflicted because the shifters in my family are trying to kill him, too. Just yesterday I was 98% ready to control Jackson and take him to kill Steven myself.

But now, that 2% has me feeling uncertain.

Not even five minutes after the twins' departure, there's a knock at the door. I'm still leaning against it and moping, so I take a deep breath to compose myself and pull it open, expecting to see one of the betas or Roy. Even Gerard could show up at my door, if I were to be completely honest.

The girl standing on my doorstep, however, is a complete stranger. I frown as I give her a quick once-over, taking in her ragged appearance and looking over her face for a trace of something familiar. She's dressed in a pair of dirt-caked cargo pants and a crisp, clean black tank-top, and the only thing covering her feet is a thick layer of grime. She has wild burgundy-colored hair that reaches the belt of her pants with leaves and some twigs sticking out of it, reminding me of Lydia when she was found after running naked in the woods. Tears start to run down her cheeks, and when I Iook into her eyes, they're a light brown, almost…

Golden.

_Shit._

"You must be Camilla." Even without the confirming nod, I know it to be true. Nick wasn't kidding when he said the girl and I share a certain resemblance- you know, if I'd been born a supermodel with perfect bone structure and several inches taller, of course. And still had long, wavy hair that I hadn't been forced to dye blond. "Care to explain how you found me, when good ol' Susan told everyone I was in Australia?" She hurriedly holds out a crumbled piece of paper which I accept, reading the three lines circled in red marker. It's a page from a phone book, and the circled information is my name and address. When I look up at the girl questioningly, she's broken into all-out tears.

"I didn't know where else to go," she apologizes between breaths and sobs, and for the love of God, her voice even sounds like mine, only more melodic. "It all happened so fast, and I remembered Nick telling Susan that he'd found you, and that you were someplace safe, so when Steven-" She stops, sobs and gasps for breath, clutching her chest tightly. She looks at me imploringly, begging me to understand, and I stare impassively at her, waiting for her to finish. "I don't want him to find me, Conner!"

Hunters, betas, and even a Kanima, I've welcomed into my home without second thoughts. But this girl, with her golden eyes, red hair and pitiful expression? My wolf screams to send her on her merry way and dodge Steven by herself. I've never felt this automatic dislike for a fellow woman before, but in this instant, I feel it for the one girl linked to my family. My stomach sinks as I release the doorframe, allowing it to swing the rest of the way open. Her hands were clenched at her sides tightly enough to cause pain, but when I open the door, she releases them, and a sob breaks from her throat.

A _pretty_ sob! Who looks pretty when they sob?!

Knowing I've already lost the battle, I let out a sigh and wave her inside. "Then come in before someone sees you."

* * *

It's strange how, between pack and family business, it's easy to forget that I have a job. But, Stacey and the bills don't forget, so at four thirty sharp I'm walking into the café with Camilla in tow. With a shower and a fresh set of clothes, the girl looks like she just stepped out of a magazine, no evidence left of the hell she'd been through the past couple of days I was supposed to be searching for her. I sit her down at the bar and order her a coffee on my tab, then hurry up helping Jesse set up sound equipment.

No sooner have we set everything up and sat down on stage when he nods at Camilla, a questioning look on his face. I shrug, not wanting to explain, but he's not having it. "You don't have many girls who are friends," he states matter-of-factly. "I'm just wondering if this is a friend, or if you're experimenting."

"What on earth would lead you to believe I was experimenting?" I ask exasperatedly, lowering the mic to my level. He raises a brow.

"You have that look that you got lucky, and she's wearing your clothes," he replies. My cheeks quickly flush and he grins. "Ha! So, am I right?"

"I'm not experimenting with her," I mutter, checking my watch. Two minutes until show time, damn! "You know I don't swing for that team."

"But you got lucky, right?"

"Jesse, you're my ex-boyfriend's best friend!" I hiss, but I can't help smiling as I say it. He's always been a tease. "Should I really be telling you details about my sex life?"

"Well, if you're taking _that _approach," he begins, leaning forward conspiratorially, "I asked Heath for his blessing yesterday."

"Why would you do that?" I exclaim. Jesse's type is more on the athletic blonde side, and to top it off, I met him first; if he didn't make a move in the beginning, it didn't make sense that he'd do it after I dated his best friend. "Were you testing him?"

He scoffs. "Of course I was testing him!" He laughs and rolls his eyes. "Sometimes that's the only way to get an explanation! Needless to say, he flipped a shit."

"No, really?" I ask sarcastically.

"Anyways," he says pointedly, "he opened up about what was going on, and I was just thinking that, if you weren't seeing anybody, you might want to know that he and Linda broke up."

"Good for them," I whisper. "Jesse, he cheated and I moved on."

"I'm glad to hear it," he says sincerely. "Now, are you and this new guy exclusive, or can you and I…?"

"Not a chance," I state bluntly, but wink as I pull back, looking at the clock on the wall. Finally, time to start performing, and save me from further awkward discussion.

"But hey, really, who is she?" he presses, nodding at Camilla. "Can I, you know...?"

"She's my sister, Jesse, so no."

"You have a sister?!"

To silence him I turn on the mic and address the café, thanking them for coming out. Camilla and I already decided beforehand to stick with a slightly adjusted form of the truth for consistency's sake: Susan and Steven adopted her, and when there were family problems, she sought me out to give her and the family a bit of a break from each other. Even so, I warned her that there's plenty of danger going through Beacon Hills right now, and stressed the importance of keeping a low profile. As we start the first song (an acoustic Bon Jovi cover), however, I look towards Camilla and see she's avidly chatting up one of our regulars.

But not just any regular.

No, Camilla's deep in conversation with Roy.

* * *

_Conner Fitz. Leave a message._

Jackson cursed as he got Conner's voicemail for the third time in a row and tossed the phone in the passenger seat of his Porsche, starting the engine. The clock showed that it was past ten, so she should have already gotten out of work, but she wasn't answering, even after he'd sent her a message that it was urgent.

She'd warned him that blackouts, gaps in his memory, and sleepwalking were indicators that he could be the Kanima, and the whole day had been a blur with only shorts instances of awareness. In one such instance, he'd almost hurt Allison, and wile he couldn't bring himself to let Scott and Stiles know that they were right, he felt he could trust Conner. She was the only one out of the group who'd actually seemed more worried about _him_ rather than what he could do, and he needed someone on his side if he actually was losing control. He reached across to the seat and grabbed his phone, calling Conner's phone again. This time, someone answered, but it wasn't Conner.

"Hello?"

"I need to talk to Conner," he said, not bothering with pleasantries. "Tell her it's urgent."

"She's kinda busy right now," the girl said carefully. "Who's calling?"

"Jackson," he answered. "Tell her I need to talk to her, and she'll understand."

"She'll be done in a couple of-"

"NOW!" he roared. He blinked and choked on the strange voice that had come from his throat, but the girl on the other end sputtered an apology and asked him to wait a moment. Looking up in the rearview mirror, he felt his stomach drop when he saw his eyes glowing yellow and dark scales starting to appear along his neck.

"Jackson, where are you? Are you okay?"

_HELP!_

"I'm fine," he calmly replied, right before hanging up the phone. Against his will, his hands turned the steering wheel and slowed the car down until it pulled to a stop on the side of the road. Even as he internally screamed for his body to obey and drive to the café, his hands undid his seatbelt and opened the door. His legs carried him towards the forest, and all he could manage to do was cry out before the darkness consumed him.

* * *

Stiles was bored. Tired, yes; stressed out, sure; but, above all else, bored out of his mind.

Overall, the day had sucked. Jackson/Kanima had attacked at the high school library and sent Erica into an epileptic attack, so he and Scott had taken her to Derek per requested. The rest of the day and most of the night had been spent in the abandoned subway station, with Erica resting under the car of Boyd, Scott and Derek discussing their next move (because, surprise, Scott had decided to join Derek's pack!), and Stiles sitting in a corner, twiddling his thugs and waiting for Scott to finish so that he could get the hell out of there. The whole place gave him the creeps.

To add to the whole mess, Isaac arrived. The beta grinned a toothy grin at him, and immediately Stiles pulled out his phone in order to have an excuse not to look at him. Sensing his discomfort, Isaac walked over and sat on the crate directly next to him leaning his elbows on his knees and cocking his head to the side to look at him.

"Nervous?" he asked. Stiles pretended to contemplate the question and shook his head.

"Nope, not nervous. Why would I be nervous?" he replied too quickly, his voice coming out higher than he'd wanted it to.

"Good," Isaac said, patting Stiles' shoulder. Stiles cringed as Isaac used a bit of werewolf strength and pulled out of his grip. "Derek says Scott's part of the pack now, so we have to make nice."

"Well, that's… nice?" Stiles said carefully. Isaac shrugged nonchalantly.

"He didn't say anything about you, though."

Just as Stiles gulped, a pair of loud footsteps approached them from behind. Conner promptly appeared, clearly having gone there straight from work (she was still wearing a skirt), and turned to them two. Stiles did a double-take, surprised she was blonde instead of a brunette/redhead.

"Where's Derek?" she demanded, skipping the "hi" and "how are you?" part of civilized conversation. Isaac nodded towards the subway carts.

"Over there, talking to Scott," Isaac answered, his voice giving her an air of respect absent when speaking to Stiles. "Did you hear? Scott joined."

"Bullshit," she muttered distractedly, eyes scanning for Derek. "Means to an end." She blinked and smiled at Stiles then. "Hey Stiles. You ok?"

"Oh yeah, just _fiiiine_," he said with a little too much casualness, waving a hand. "Super."

She raised a brow and crossed her arms at Isaac just as another person ran down the tunnel from the underground parking garage. "What have I told you about being nice?" she scolded. Isaac lowered his head, but rolled his eyes.

"Fine," he sighed in resignation. Stiles didn't buy it for a second, and judging by Conner's expression, she didn't, either. The girl who joined them, however, distracted him completely from his previous train of thought, and he was lost.

She stood a good three inches taller than Conner and had long, flowing brown hair with a red tint that curled at the end. Her face was elegantly shaped and she had honey-colored eyes hooded by thick, dark lashes, and when she smiled nervously at him, he was perplexed by how perfect her pink lips were again her light skin. Geez, the girl couldn't be more gorgeous!

Stiles immediately shot to his feet and extended his hand, but when he opened his mouth to speak, he could only stammer out short, awkward-sounding gibberish rather than smooth introductions as he'd intended. Isaac rolled his eyes and grabbed Stiles' shoulder, pulling him back down to sit and saving him from further embarrassment.

"He just hit puberty," Isaac apologized to the girl before looking meaningfully at Conner. "What's she doing here?"

"Isaac, Stiles, this is Camilla," she said tightly, gesturing at Camilla with a wave. "She's the one Jeremy told you was bitten."

Isaac nodded in understanding, but rather than look at Camilla again, he kept his eyes trained on Conner, who was again looking around the station. "You okay?"

"No, I'm not," she admitted. "Jackson called me, and I think he's going to attack again tonight."

"Then let's go," Isaac said simply, standing up. "Where was he last?"

"I don't know," she muttered. "I wouldn't know where to start looking for him, and even if I did have a way to track him down, I'd be too late. It's been an hour already." Derek opened the door to one of the subway cars then and waved Conner over. She nodded at them and hurried over, not even bothering to say anything to Camilla. Isaac and Stiles watched as she and Derek talked in hushed, urgent tones in front of the car.

Stiles chances a peek at Isaac, and was surprised to see him focused intently on the pair. Realizing something, he leaned closer. "You have, like, super-hearing, right?"

Isaac smirked. "Yes…?"

"So you can hear what they're saying, right?" he pressed. Isaac nodded shortly. Camilla sat down next to Isaac, interested in the conversation. Isaac looked at her with a hint of confusion, then nodded toward the tunnel.

"Look, no offense, but scram," he ordered calmly. Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth to say something, but Isaac apparently gave her a look that made her reconsider. In a moment she was marching down the tunnel muttering to herself, and Stiles was thinking of how happy he was Isaac hadn't looked at him that way instead. Isaac turned back to Stiles, who was giving him a questioning look. He shrugged. "Conner doesn't like her."

"Really?" Stiles exclaimed, surprised. "I didn't get that vibe at all."

"You don't know her like I do," Isaac said simply, then looked back at Conner and Derek. "Conner just finished telling him about what happened with Jackson. Now he's asking about Camilla."

Stiles listened attentively, knowing Isaac was giving him a peek into the relationship between Conner and Derek. He hadn't seen them interact too many times, but it was already common knowledge to him, Scott and Allison that _something _was up. Isaac frowned, then raised his brows.

"Wow."

"What is it?" Stiles hissed. Isaac held up his hand so he turned to watch the pair and try his hand at lip-reading. While he couldn't make out what they were saying, Conner looked genuinely pissed. Derek reached forward and gripped her shoulder, but she swatted his hand away and glared. They exchanged words until Derek held up both his hands, and shook his head, apparently closing the topic. Scott walked up to them, interrupting the conversation and giving Stiles a chance to ride Isaac for the answer.

"What were they saying?!"

"She says Camilla wants to join the pack," he said quietly behind his hand, eyes still focused on Conner.

"That's a good thing, right? For you guys, I mean?" Stiles commented. "The bigger the pack…"

"She asked him to say no."

"What? Why?!"

"She wouldn't say," he muttered. "Derek accused her of being jealous, and she flipped out."

"So she's pro-Jackson, but anti-Camilla?" Stiles clarified. Isaac nodded.

"Pretty much."

Scott finished talking to Derek and Conner apparently, because a second later he started making his way to where Stiles and Isaac were. Derek and Conner started talking again, and Isaac's ears perked up. Once Scott reached them, he opened his mouth to speak, then choked on his words. His cheeks flushed red and Isaac groaned, dropping his head into his hand. Confused, Stiles looked between them two, asking what was wrong. Conner looked over at them and met Isaac's eyes, then shoved Derek angrily and marched into the subway car farthest from them. Derek glared at them all, then followed her into the car, sliding the door shut behind him with a slam.

"What happened?!" Stiles demanded as soon as Derek was out of earshot. "Did you guys hear something?"

"Something that isn't _any _of our business," Isaac said, a threat clearly laced in the words as he looked at Scott meaningfully. "Really."

Scott nodded wordlessly, face still flushed. Isaac got up and started to walk to an empty subway car, but Conner poked her head out of the car, barking his name. "Hey, take Camilla back to my place? We're discussing her problem." He nodded, and she smiled. "Thanks!"

Scott and Stiles followed him to the parking garage where Camilla was waiting, arms crossed as she leaned against Conner's pick-up truck. Isaac pulled a set of keys out of his pocket and opened the door to the truck, motioning for her to get in. "Come on, I'm driving you."

"She gave you the spare key?" Stiles exclaimed. Isac raised his brows and nodded slowly.

"Yeah. How else would we be able to handle these situations?" he asked, as if it was completely obvious. Reluctantly Camilla climbed into the truck and Isaac followed, slamming the door shut and driving away in record timing. Once they were gone and Scott and Stiles had piled into the Jeep, Stiles demanded answers.

"Okay, what the hell, dude?"

Scott blushed again and shook his head. "I can't talk about it man," he insisted. Stiles glared and started the Jeep, driving out of the garage at record speed. The sooner he got away from Derek's lair, the better.

"I'm your best friend!" he pressed. "And no offense, but I'm the one who's actually friends with her, and I need to make sure she's alright, so just tell me what's up!"

"Really, it's not important!"

"Just _tell me_!"

"Fine!"

* * *

"So, why didn't you tell me?"

We both waited until everyone had left before continuing the conversation Derek had so embarrassingly started in the common area. I cross my arms and lean against the opposite wall of the subway car, shrugging.

"I didn't think you needed to know," I mutter, looking away. "It's kinda my business." Unfortunately, it's a rather small car, so no matter which direction I look in, I encounter some kind of reminder of what happened here only last night.

He shakes his head. "Conner, before anything, you're a beta in my pack," he reminds me, taking a step forward. I take one back. "Of course it's my business."

"Did you ask Erica?" I reason. "Or Boyd? Or what about Isaac?"

"I'm not sleeping with any of them," he states. I nod.

"Exactly. So don't use the beta argument."

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, reconsidering his approach. "Look, Conner, I've never been in this situation before," he admits, and for the first time since I've met him, he looks uncertain. "I don't know what you're expecting from me, but-"

"Stop! Stop!" I exclaim, holding up my hands and shaking my head desperately. "Please, don't give me that talk!" Only when I'm certain that he's stopped talking do I lower my hands and explain. "Derek, I didn't do what I did last night because I expect you to take responsibility for me," I say carefully. "You are infuriating most of the time, and quite honestly, sometimes I wonder why I'm with you. But you…" I trail off, momentarily lost for words, and settle on the truth. "You make me feel like I'm not just the girl who wasn't good enough for her old pack. I don't want you to take care of me. I just want you to be _with_ me."

He silently takes in what I'm telling him. After a short silence, he takes a deep breath, uncrosses his arms and looks at me with a hint of resignation in his eyes. "You should have told me," he insists, but it doesn't sound like he's trying to argue anymore. I nod.

"Don't worry," I assure him with a smirk. "If I happen upon another virginity, I'll be sure to let you know about it beforehand."

"And I want my sheets back."

"I'll buy you a new set, hm?" He rolls his eyes, but sensing that he isn't mad anymore, I move forward and wrap my arms around his waist. "So…" I trail off, leaning into his body and looking up into his eyes with a smile. "What are you up to tonight?"

In response he growls and lifts me up against him, making his way to the mattress in the corner. I laugh and wrap my legs around his waist, holding on for dear life as he drops down onto the bed. My phone chooses that moment to start ringing and I groan, but Derek takes care of it, pulling it out of my pocket and tossing it across the car. The call might be important, but for a moment, I really don't care. I just want this distraction, this time with him where there's no pack, no Kanima, and most definitely nobody around to remind me of everything I've lost.

* * *

_Conner Fitz. Leave a message._

"Conner, this is Jeremy. Just wanted to give you an update, um… We've lost Steven's trail. Nick and Vince are still searching for clues, but I don't think we're gonna find any trace of him until he wants to be found. So… yeah. Let your dad know so the hunters can keep their eyes peeled. Oh, and let us know when you find Camilla, okay? Nick's starting to get worried. Love ya cuz."

_Conner Fitz. Leave a message._

"Hey, it's Jesse. Listen babe, I got us a gig at that underground rave thing I've been talking to you for months about! Now, I know you don't normally perform outside the café scene, but my female vocalist… Well, we had some misunderstandings, and I need you. And before you say no, I already put your name down. Call me tomorrow to discuss wardrobe."

_Conner Fitz. Leave a message._

"Conner, it's Roy. I know what you're planning to do with the Kanima. Call me back. I'm in."

* * *

**Post-Chapter Note:**

**Review and let me know what you guys thought :D Opinions on Camilla? Predictions? You all ROCK!**


	21. Rave

**Author's Note:**

**Eeek! Almost 200 reviews :D I'm so excited! "Rave" is kinda my favorite episode from Teen Wolf, so I ended up writing this chapter in a flash. I had every intention of making it into two parts, but just kept on writing and writing lol... Thank you so much for your reviews and messages, and I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it :)!**

**PS: I apologize for the grammatical errors in the last chapter and any that mght appear in this one; working with a new computer and new laptop, with my fast typing, I miss some things!**

* * *

It feels like it's been ages since the last time I had coffee at Roy's place, even if it's really only been a couple of days. To be more precise, I was there only the day before yesterday, but it's been a while since it was just him and me, no interruptions.

And now, there's even more to hide.

I arrive at his apartment at promptly two in the afternoon and he ushers me inside with a smile, like always. The coffee's already been served and it smells fantastic, so I don't waste a second before sitting in my regular armchair and claiming my cup. He sits down across from me and sighs, running a hand through his hair. Sensing his stress, I take a moment to observe the changes in the apartment. There are more pictures on the walls of exotic places he's visited and there's a new weapon's rack above the television, but he'd mentioned these things. Then I spot it: the police report on the coffee table.

It quickly becomes evident this visit will have a business nature.

"Any news on the Kanima?" I ask, cutting to the chase. He nods and lets out a deep breath.

"I'll get to that, but first, I need to ask you. Who is Camilla?"

I shrug and open my mouth to give him the rehearsed excuse, but he looks me in the eyes with a raised brow, and I reconsider. "Camilla was taken in by the Daniels shortly after they relocated," I answer instead. "Steven went crazy recently, and she got caught in the crossfire and fled. She sought me out, and now she's staying with me until Nick and the others track him and put him down."

"Do you want her around?"

The question catches me by surprise. Nick, Jeremy and the rest of my family had simply assumed that it would be fine if she crashed at my place, because I was alright with any of them doing it. But honestly?

"No, I don't," I admit, shaking my head. "She hasn't done anything wrong, I just don't want to see her. But I don't want to throw her to the wolves either, so to speak. So…" I trail off and take a sip of coffee. This one has some vanilla in it.

"You know that I could take care of it," he offers. I smile and shake my head.

"I couldn't. I don't think my family could forgive me."

"And them leaving is so much more forgivable?"

I blink. Nobody talks about their abandonment so bluntly. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't you play a role in that?" I ask, finally addressing the question that has burned at me for the longest time. His golden eyes don't leave mine as he nods in confirmation.

"Yes, I did, though not in the way I'm sure he's told his pack." He takes his own coffee in his hands and looks at me intently. Even if I trust him, I listen to his heartbeat anyways, and I believe that he knows it. "After your mother died, I investigated the details about the accident. Leni was always a safe driver, and even if she had gotten into an accident, she was an Alpha. It would have taken much more than a crash to kill her. When I figured out the details, I contacted Steven, and we exchanged words." At my frown, he surrenders. "Fine. We tried to kill each other. Thanks to the Blackbird partial immunity to werewolf venom, I didn't turn, but I was hospitalized for a while. By the time I was discharged, you all had relocated. So, I tracked you guys down to Beacon Hills." He gives me a falsely apologetic look. "What can I say? I'm tenacious. When I showed up at the house, he was more open to talk, so I gave him a choice: either turn himself in for Leni's murder, or let me take custody of you, and swear to break all contact, or I'd let the local hunters know where he was."

"Why would you give him that choice?" I ask, confused.

"You have to understand, I want him to pay for what he did," he assures me, "but I was more worried about what he'd do to you if I left you with him for much longer. Strangely enough, he understood my concern."

"But he said no anyways," I finish.

"Actually, he said yes, to the latter," he corrects. This information is completely new, and I can't help leaning forward and sitting towards the edge of my seat, as if by not doing so, I'll miss some detail. "It was your sixteenth birthday when we spoke. He let me see you, but didn't let me speak with you." He laughs suddenly. "Your brothers threw you into the pool and you started cursing like a sailor." I swallow a lump in my throat at the memory, but nod, urging him to continue. "He agreed that I could come by a week later, after he'd explained the situation and let you process. When I came by, however…"

"They were gone."

He nods. "I assumed they'd taken you with them, so I left as soon as I could and followed them. When I didn't get a single lead, I started taking on some freelance hunting jobs to pass the time, until I heard about a job in Beacon Hills."

"But Nick said you threatened to kill them if they contacted me," I cut in. He nods.

"I told him that if any harm came to you because of him or his pack, then I would kill him and those involved," he explains. "It isn't surprising he'd exaggerate my threat to avoid telling the pack the truth behind their abandonment. He's always been very good at dispersing blame."

A silence passes as we both sit there and drink coffee, each allowing the other to process the information. His story brings a question to mind that I'd only once, and very briefly, entertained: what would my life be like now if Roy had been in my life before? With some communication, Roy could have taken me in over a year ago. We would have lived somewhere else; I may not have met Derek; I could possibly be a hunter now instead of a werewolf. I feel like one of those kids that finds out in their teen years that they were adopted, only I was abandoned by the father that raised me, rather than the other way around. I'm not sure which would have been easier to process.

I'm so wrapped up in my thoughts that I don't notice Roy has stood up until he drops a plastic bag on the coffee table, breaking the silence. I look at him questioningly and he nods, waving for me to look at its contents. When I pull the bag onto my lap and start taking out the small boxes inside, I can't help but laugh.

"You just might be my hero right now," I admit, holding up the box of hair dye. He laughs and sits down again.

"While you do make a lovely blonde, the family color suits you better," he says, smiling as I excitedly go through the rest of the products. Not only has he bought the hair dye, he's included absolutely everything else I might need, including gloves. Then I take a closer look at the color, and sadly realize something. Apparently noticing, he frowns. "What is it?"

"I just realized that Camilla has the same exact hair color," I answer honestly. He seems completely unsurprised.

"Yes, but she dyed her hair that color," he states, shrugging. "You have it naturally."

"She dyes it?" I repeat. He nods. "How do you know?"

"I asked her," he says simply. Oh right, their conversation in the café. I never would have guessed they were discussing hair styles. "She denied it at first, but eventually said she's been dying it for a year."

A year.

"That's the same amount of time she was staying with the Daniels," I point out, though judging by his expression, he's already drawn the same conclusion. "That's… questionable."

"It could be," he agrees, then pulls a brochure out from his back pocket. "But _this_? It's downright suspicious." He hands me the brochure, and I'm surprised to see it's about contacts. When I open it, I see what he wants to show me. In the colored contacts section is a set for brown eyes, named "Honey". It's the spitting image of Camilla's eyes, and as close to my eye color as possible in the brochure. I'm trying not to draw far-fetched conclusions, but I'm having trouble not reaching the same one I'm pretty sure Roy has.

"Do you think…?"

He nods. "I'm 95% certain she altered her appearance in order to resemble you, and get accepted into the Pack. Why? I don't know yet, but I'm going to find out."

* * *

I'm in a daze as I walk through the spices aisle in the supermarket, pushing the cart and distractedly grabbing the items on the list. The visit with Roy had been nothing short of a revelation. In addition to the possibility of Camilla having her own agenda, it turns out Allison told the hunters that Jackson is the Kanima, and now there's a task force assigned to take him out. However, because Roy believes that using the Kanima to kill Steven is genius, he has some sort of plan in place that he'll fill me in on later to make sure they don't kill him.

With all of the mess, I'd barely noticed that the pantry at my apartment had gone bare, and considering the sheer number of betas I have to feed in that kitchen on a daily basis, I decided it would be therapeutic to do something as mundane and human as grocery shopping while I processed how to face the day.

"Hey, should I grab garlic powder? I checked this morning, and you're running a bit low."

I should have imagined Camilla would invite herself on the trip, ruining the therapeutic aspect of it.

"I already grabbed some," I answer shortly, scratching it off the list.

"…Um, no, you grabbed cheyenne pepper," she corrects after some hesitation. I look into the cart and, lo and behold, in my daze, I'd grabbed cheyenne pepper instead of garlic powder. Without saying a word, I hand her the cheyenne pepper and nod. As she goes back to grab the right item, I keep walking towards the end of the lane. Just as she returns, a guy with a beanie turns and walks into our aisle, blocking the cart. When he raises his head and looks at me, I groan.

"Really, Jesse?" I exclaim. "You've lowered yourself to stalking?"

He raises his brows at my rudeness, then turns to Camilla. "Good afternoon, miss," he greets with exaggerated politeness. "And thank you Conner, I'm doing quite well, thanks for asking." He braces his hands against the cart. "Except, of course, for the fact that my female vocalist hasn't shown up for rehearsal. Are you trying to ruin my career?!"

"I already told you, I can't perform at the rave!" I exclaim. "Coffee shops! That's it!"

"Did you even listen to the CD?" he demands. I roll my eyes.

"Of course not," I state. Camilla frowns.

"We listened to it on our way here," she interjects. "She loves it." I glare at her, and she shrugs. "What? I agree with Jesse. The songs are in your range, and would be interesting."

"Nobody asked you!" I retort. Jesse gestures frantically at her.

"Thank you!" he gushes, then turns back to me. "Look, Conner, maybe I haven't made it clear, but I don't just want you to perform- I _need _your help. The girl I had lined up got pissed at me and bailed last minute, and you're the only other one I'd want to sing these songs."

"What happened?" I ask, now curious. "Sleep with her?" He sighs and pulls off his beanie, releasing his shoulder-length brown hair.

"Actually, the opposite," he admits with a hint of embarrassment. "She wanted to, and I'm trying to turn over a new leaf." At my look, he rolls his eyes. "Please, don't look so surprised. It's insulting."

"I'm not surprised, I'm impressed," I correct.

"To further impress, did I mention that the music is completely my original work?" he presses.

That pretty much does it for me. After a moment, I take a deep breath. "Fine. I'm in. When and where is this thing?"

He grins and high-fives Camilla. "I owe you big-time," he says in a rush, then puts a flyer in my hand. "Just get there two hours earlier for sound check, and wear something you'd normally wear to a rave." He moves to leave, reconsiders, then turns back, grabs my face in his hands, and kisses my forehead. "I love you Conner!" he yells, then bolts in the other direction. "See you later!" Camilla and I laugh as he runs out of the supermarket, earning himself his fair share of stares from customers. We continue on with the shopping when Camilla speaks up.

"How much are tickets to go to the rave?" she asks.

"Seventy-five last time I checked," I reply as I open a pack of eggs to make sure none are broken or cracked. "Why?"

"I thought it'd be cool to see you guys perform," she says simply. I shrug.

"Jesse plays a track, I sing to it. It really isn't that big of a deal."

"Still. Sounds fun."

Biting back a snippy argument, I take a breath. "Okay. I'll get you in if you do a favor for me," I decide. She nods eagerly. "Roy got me some hair dye, and he told me you're an expert at hair dying. I'm tired of being blonde." She frowns.

"Roy?" she repeats. I hide my smile by leaning into the cooler and grabbing a gallon of milk.

"Yeah, my dad," I answer casually. "I saw you talking to him last night." When I straighten up and look at her, she's visibly paled and her eyes are wide.

"Roy- Roy is your father?" she chokes out. "As in, the _hunter_?!"

I raise my brows. "Yeah, I thought you knew," I say innocently. She shakes her head vigorously and I give her an encouraging smile. "Don't worry, he thinks you're human. You have nothing to worry about. He's a really cool guy."

"I never would have guessed he was your father," she admits as we pass by the frozen foods. I laugh.

"Trust me, there's a resemblance." I cock my head to the side and look at her. "Though, to be honest, right now it looks more like you're related to him, too." She laughs nervously and twists a lock of hair around her finger. Ah, a nervous tick.

"Actually, he's right, I've been dying it this color for a year," she admits, not looking me in the eyes. "It's a bit of an addiction."

"Hm. Good for me, then," I say jokingly, deciding to close the subject. "Hey, have you contacted any of the boys?"

She knows who I'm talking about and immediately her demeanor changes to a more relaxed one. "No, I don't want to bother them while they're tracking down Steven," she answers. "Have you?"

"They're still tracking him down," I lie smoothly. "Talked to Keelan this morning to let them know you're staying with me for the time being."

"And the girls? How are they?"

That question stings. The girls. My little sisters, who I haven't been able to see in over a year, while this stranger did. "They're safe," I reply, holding back my own resentments. "They haven't told me where they're keeping them, just that they're safe."

"That's good."

We make our way to checkout, and before I can walk around the cart Camilla beats me to it, quickly piling the groceries onto the belt. "I've got it," she says when I open my mouth to object, so I let her. It's strange, I've gotten so used to doing grocery shopping by myself, that it's awkward to have somebody help. Luckily I'm not left standing there with nothing to do, because not even a second passes before my phone starts beeping. When I pull it out of my pocket, I see I have several text messages.

_Jackson's going to be at the rave. Meet at Vet's office in an hour._

_Derek_

Great. Just… great.

The next message is from Roy, so I brace myself.

_The task force is going after the Kanima tonight. We need to act fast._

Just as I finish reading that text, I get another from Derek.

_And bring Camilla. She's in._

Apparently I curse louder than intended because Camilla looks up questioningly. Gritting my teeth, I pocket my phone and force a smile. "We have some business to attend to," I say tightly. She's finished emptying the cart and the cashier is ringing everything up, so she moves closer to me and speaks in a hushed tone.

"Pack business?" she asks. I nod. "So…?"

"You're in," I confirm, and let out a sigh. "First order of business, neutralize the Kanima at the rave tonight as a group of hunters tries to do the same exact thing." Her expression falls as it dawns on her that tonight we'll be putting our lives in danger, and without thinking of it, I squeeze her arm reassuringly. Realizing what I've done, I jerk my hand back and clear my throat.

"Sure you still want in?" I mutter. When I open my wallet, I find a hundred dollar bill inside with a smiley-face post-it taped to it with a note:

_Because we raided your pantry._

I can't help but smile. Keelan and Jeremy really are the best. I pull the post-it off and hand it to the cashier before looking back at Camilla. The girl looks almost green with nerves, and for a moment, I feel bad. Not everyone's cut out for this lifestyle, and clearly, she's more the kind of person who prefers comfort. She takes a deep breath and gulps.

"I'm still in," she confirms. I nod, unable to hide that I'm a little bit impressed. Girl might have a backbone after all.

* * *

**That Night:**

"You look like a slut."

The insult comes from a very familiar voice, and when I turn around I see Isaac leaning against a pillar, smirking. I raise a brow and gesture at my leather skirt, black leggings, and simple lace camisole. "This? Baby, this is tame," I say with a grin. "What are you doing in here?" We're in the equipment room and only those of us with the right ID on our lanyards are allowed inside to get away from the craziness of the rave. The equipment is very expensive, so security is tight and I have no idea how he got in here.

He shrugs a shoulder. "Told the giant I was your boyfriend," he explains, gesturing towards the door. "Figured you could use some support before all hell breaks loose." I smile warmly and stride over, giving him a strong hug.

"Have I mentioned you're my favorite beta?" I ask teasingly. He ruffles my hair.

"Nah, I suspected as much," he says jokingly. "Your performance was almost passable."

I laugh. "Wow, thank you!" I say sarcastically. He grins and runs a hand through my hair. It's been dyed back to its natural burgundy and ironed, and Jesse gave me a glow ring to use as a tiara right before I performed.

"I'm glad you're not blonde anymore. Who did it for you?"

"Camilla," I answer, holding a lock up in front of my face. Admittedly, I'm also relieved to have my natural color again. Almost as if sensing we'd mentioned her name, Camilla rushes into the room, a huge smile on her face.

"Conner, you were _amazing_!" she gushes excitedly. "I didn't know you could sing like that!"

I scratch the back of my head sheepishly, better knowing how to handle sarcastic insults than direct praise. "The notes weren't anything out of this world, and it was more the music that sounded great," I reason. She nods in partial agreement.

"Yeah, but still, you were great," she insists. Her phone vibrates then and she rolls her eyes. "Geez, Jesse's like a diva! I'll text you guys if I see anything weird!" With a wave, she runs out the door. Isaac gives me a questioning look and I wave a hand.

"The only way to get her in without a ticket was to say she's Jesse's intern," I explain. Taking advantage that we've breached the topic, he jabs a thumb in the direction of the door.

"So, how are you handling the whole pack addition thing?" he asks. I lean against the wall and groan.

"Fine," I mutter. "I don't trust her."

"Why?"

I shake my head. "I honestly don't know," I admit. "She's perfectly nice, but something about her just rubs me the wrong way. I feel like she's hiding something."

"Are you sure it doesn't have to do with the fact that the Daniels took her in?"

He doesn't ask the question condescendingly or judgmentally, unlike Derek when he asked last night. I know he's right, so I nod in agreement. "Partially," I admit without shame. "But mostly, something's off. Roy thinks she tried to look like me so that the Daniels would take her in."

"That's a bit of a long shot, isn't it?"

I shrug. "Honestly? We don't know anything about her," I remind him. "We don't know if it's a long shot. Hell, she could be a hunter for all we know."

"Wouldn't Roy have recognized her, then?" he reasons. It makes sense; my father's well-known in hunter circles, and always knows who's who in the hunting world. Reluctantly I nod, and he squeezes my shoulder reassuringly. "Come on. We have a Kanima to catch," he urges, holding up the vial of tranquilizer we got from Deacon the Vet. I loop my arm with his and we exit the equipment room, diving right into the fray.

The plan is pretty simple. After discussing with Roy, I told him I'd make sure Derek's pack arrived on the scene first, and they'd keep the hunters away. Although reluctant, he eventually agreed; while the hunters were aiming to kill, I assured him that the pack was more concerned with neutralizing Jackson until they could find his master. If they neutralized him instead, that would give Roy the chance he needed to find a way to control him instead. Never mind that he isn't going to get that chance if I have any say in it, but I'll cross that bridge when I reach it.

On the pack's end, Stiles made a mountain ash barrier around the warehouse as soon as we confirmed that Jackson arrived on the premises. Derek, Boyd and Erika are keeping the hunters at bay outside, and it's up to Isaac, Scott and me to knock Jackson out with the ketamine before he attacks.

The strobe lights and the loud music make it hard to think, but Isaac and I move forward anyways, dancing along with everyone else in order to blend in. After a couple of minutes, we spot Jackson at the same time, marching through the crowd with iron determination. Jackson and I make eye contact and he stops, cocking his head to the side. Not wanting to risk him running off, I hurry over and smile.

"Hey Jackson! I didn't know you were coming!" I gush excitedly, grabbing his hand. "Come on, let's dance!" He seems mildly confused, but without any cues closes in on me and places his hands firmly on my hips. Even I can't help my surprise when he pulls me flush against him and starts to move, lowering his head so his nose slides up my neck. Chills run down my spine when I hear him growl in my ear, and when I try to pull my head back, he snaps a hand against the back of my neck, holding me in place. His tongue twists around my ear and I open my mouth to call Isaac for help.

Without warning, he stiffens then slumps completely against my body, a dead weight I almost don't catch in time. When his head drops against my shoulder I see Isaac standing behind him, eyes wide and chest rising and falling as he breathes heavily. That was close. He quickly grabs one of Jackson's arms and supports a lot of his weight while I keep an arm firmly around his waist. I look around for Scott, but the beta is nowhere to be seen, so we make our way to the freezer I made sure was unlocked when I came earlier.

Surprisingly we don't attract much attention, but then again, it _is _a rave. I'm sure Jackson isn't the first unconscious teen to get dragged out of the establishment. He's still unconscious when we drop him in the freezer and close the door behind us, but now the nerves start to kick in. When he wakes up, he's either going to be Jackson or one _extremely _pissed off Kanima; somehow, I feel it's definitely going to be the latter.

"Geez, one more second and I thought he was going to eat you," Isaac mutters. I laugh shakily, rubbing my arms. It was definitely weird. The door opens and we both whorl around ready to attack, but it's only Stiles. He holds up his hands defensively and scrambles to close the door, looking at Jackson with wide eyes.

"Uh, guys?"

We turn to see what he's worried about, and much to our horror, we see that Jackson's eyes are open and focused. Focused on me. I gulp and he frowns, looking between the three of us. Stiles kneels in front of him, thankfully catching his attention.

"Jackson…?" he asks carefully. Jackson seems to glare.

"Us," he corrects, his voice droning strangely. My stomach drops and I look at Isaac, who gives me an equally worried look. We're speaking to the Kanima and his master.

"Are you the one who's killing people?" he asks.

"We. We're the ones killing murderers," Jackson answers.

"Ae you sure they're murderers?" I cut in. "Who'd they kill?" Stiles and Jackson look at me then, but my nerves are gone. For all of his flaws, the Kanima's first victim was Isaac's father, and I don't buy into him being a murderer. Jackson cocks his head to the side.

"Yes. Every one of them," he confirms eerily. "They killed me." We all collectively suck in a breath, and right before our eyes, his eyes change to an amber color, his pupils slit, and his set of sharp fangs start to protrude. "Don't you remember?" he growls. "You were there."

A slap to the face couldn't have shocked me as much as those words. I want to demand more answers, but Isaac drags me out, quickly followed by Stiles. Jackson is full-on transforming faster than ever, morphing almost completely in the time it takes us to slam the door. Isaac locks it and the three of us lean against the door, barricading it as best as we can.

"Do you think it'll hold him?" Stiles asks. There's a bang and the deafening shriek of tearing metal, and right next to us the Kanima breaks through the wall and bolts. Not wasting a second I run after it, hoping Isaac is right behind me. It breaks through another wall and I leap through the hole, following it through an empty hallway. The music from the rave shakes the ground and the walls, but the Kanima hears me behind it and hisses angrily. It's faster than me, but not that much faster, especially when I give in to Instinct and allow my wolf features to come out full force. We reach the end of the hall, a plastic strip door beyond which partygoers are raving to more of Jesse's mixes.

It pauses momentarily and I take advantage of the opening, pouncing onto its back with a snarl. I know it won't stop it, but I need to stall it, at least until Isaac show up and we can have a fighting chance against it. It rears back and slams me against the floor, but I grit my teeth through it and hold on for dear life. It rolls over and pounds its back against the wall, once, twice, three times. Once I start to see stars, I bare my fangs and latch onto its shoulder, biting in as deeply as I can past the scales. Its blood fills my mouth and I want to gag, but the Kanima screeches and reaches back to claw at me, so I bite in deeper. Its claws tear at my back and I focus on directing the pain to my jaw. I feel its tail cutting thin gashes into my arms, but when the venom doesn't have an effect, it resorts to a different technique and stabs me in the side.

A scream breaks free from my throat and the Kanima wraps its tail around my waist, jerking me off its back and tossing me to the side. I choke and spit out its blood, gasping for breath and grunting as I try to scramble to my feet. I've barely made it to my knees when it snaps a claw around my neck and lifts me into the air like a rag doll, slamming me against the wall and holding me there. I grasp onto its claw and stretch my neck, trying to free my windpipe to no avail. Dark spots blur my vision as my Instinct begs me to howl, to alert the others that I need help and let them know where to find me. Where's Isaac? My fellow beta should have followed me…! I feel my features returning to their human form as I start to fade, only vaguely hearing the music now and the Kanima becoming nothing more than a splash of green color in front of me.

"NO!" The yell breaks through the music and a figure steps through the strip door, but my eyes are watering now and I can't see who it is. "Not Conner!"

Immediately I'm released and collapse to the ground in a heap, blood gushing out of my side as I cough and suck in large gulps of air. The Kanima is hovering over me, its head turned to the side as it observes my state curiously. A strange, high-pitched whistle comes from its throat, almost like a dog whining, and it reaches out a claw.

Not forgetting that it's here to kill somebody, I look it in the eyes and concentrate. It blinks, shakes its head, and I narrow my eyes. I feel a tingling coolness fall over my shoulders, followed by a light buzzing in my chest, and I know I've accessed my power. _Unshift! _I will him silently, forcing the command in his direction. _UNSHIFT!_

Just as its fingertips turn a rosy pink, a broomstick cracks over the Kanima's head and Camilla moves in front of me, forcing the Kanima to back away. It sizes her up and snarls, snapping its tail forward menacingly. She doesn't move and roars, making even me jump with surprise. She really does have a backbone. The Kanima is definitely startled, and right when I think it's going to leave, someone else joins us.

A girl with heavy make-up and dark skin steps through the plastic strips, her jaw dropping at the scene in front of her. The Kanima gives her a strange look and she starts to scream, taking a step backwards. Camilla screams for her to run, the Kanima makes a quick move, and it's over.

She stands paralyzed for a moment before her throat starts gushing blood, splattering over Camilla and me before she drops to the ground. The Kanima slithers away as we stare in shock, the sheer amount of blood covering us and the plastic enough to make a normal person faint. Camilla's the first one to snap out of it and starts to scream bloody Mary. Her scream elicits a chorus of screams, and in typical human fashion, the partygoers stampede out of the rave. Camilla's screams crumble into tears and she shrinks away from the pool of blood collecting around the dead girl, and as she steps back, she remembers me on the floor, with my own puddle of blood collecting around me.

"Oh my God Conner, are you okay?" she exclaims, kneeling down next to me. I force a smile with gritted teeth.

"Peachy," I snap. "Where's Derek?"

"I don't know," she says quickly, and I see in her eyes she's starting to panic. "Why aren't you healing yet?! I'll go look for Derek-"

"Take a breath, calm down," I order, grabbing her wrist before she can bolt. "Don't freak out on me, Camilla."

She does as I order and takes a deep breath, but next thing I know her face twists and she bursts into tears again. "I can only smell blood…!" she sobs, and it's everything not to sigh in exasperation. "Conner, she's dead! I saw her die right in front of me!" I'm freaking out too, but I have a hole in my side that's keeping things in perspective, dammit!

"Okay Camilla, I need you to get me out of here," I state firmly, raising my arm. "There's nothing more we can do for her. Right now, in this moment, we need to get to Derek before the hunters swarm in." She sniffs and drapes my arm over her shoulder, using it as leverage to lift me up in one swift movement. I can't help but cry out as pain shoots through my side, and she immediately stops, not wanting to cause me more pain. I wince, but urge her on. "Don't stop, it's already healing."

Isaac rushes in from the other end of the hallway, and upon seeing our condition, doesn't ask questions and lifts me completely into his arms, relieving Camilla of my weight. "Derek and the others are gone," he states, running down the hall to the Kanima-made exit as if having to carry me costs him no effort at all. Camilla manages to keep up with Isaac easily, and in no time we're running to my truck parked in the back parking lot. "We need to get out of here before the hunters find us."

Giving me an apologetic look, Isaac drops me into the trunk of my pick-up, covering me with his jacket. Camilla follows suit and tucks her cardigan in around my neck before following Isaac into the truck, slamming the door behind her. I stare up at the starry sky as the engine starts and cringe when it takes a sharp turn, twisting me onto my injured side. I look down at the and I have clamped over the wound and am surprised to see fresh blood still seeping through. I should be healing already. Already the blood is starting to gather around me, and beyond exhausted, I drop my head back and doze off to the image of the waxing moon hanging above us.

* * *

By the time they'd reached the Vet's office, Conner was out cold. Despite her assurance that she was already healing, when Isaac had dragged her out of the trunk, Camilla could see that the wound was just as bad as it had been at the rave. Sitting in the receptionist area in a revolving chair, Camilla nursed a cup of hot chocolate, processing what had just happened.

She'd seen someone die.

No… she'd seen someone murdered.

The image of the life fading out of the girl's eyes was one she couldn't erase from her mind, and as she felt the tears coming again, she sensed someone approaching. The Vet, Deacon, walked out accompanied by Isaac, and faced her with an encouraging smile.

"How are you holding up?" he asked kindly. She got to her feet and gave him a shaky nod. "Conner said you protected her."

"She's awake?"

He nodded. "Just barely. Derek's keeping her conscious as the medications take effect." Camilla looked into the operating room, and saw Derek leaning over Conner on the table. She was speaking quietly to him and he was nodding, though when Camilla tried to listen, it sounded like unintelligible slurs. Scott McCall was laid out on a similar table, the color finally returning to his face after the attempted murder by wolfsbane vaporizer. Apparently, Mrs. Argent was a scary lady, and a force to be reckoned with.

"Do you want me to take you home?" Isaac offered, holding up Conner's keys. "I need to go pick up some clothes for her to change into, and I could drop you off there."

"Will you come back here?" she asked. He nodded. "Good. Then I'll just go change, and come back with you." He jerked his head to the exit and started walking, not looking to see if she followed. She started to walk after him when Deacon touched her arm, stopping her.

"You know, you're the spitting image of someone I used to know," he said quietly, looking straight into her eyes. She smiled and shook her head.

"I'm sorry, I don't think we've met," she said honestly, shaking her head. "I lived in Texas until only a year ago."

"No, you see, I'm good with faces," he insisted, moving closer. "Her name wasn't Camilla, though. It was Sarah."

She stopped breathing, and the look on his face showed he knew he'd struck gold. Not saying anything else, he nodded and backed away, walking back into the examination room. Swallowing around her heart in her throat, she turned to make sure that nobody else had heard as she backed away. Conner's golden eyes, glassy from blood loss, but confused all the same, followed her all the way to the door.

Camilla wrapped her arms tightly around herself and walked as quickly as she could to the truck, jumping inside just as Isaac started the truck. Catching onto her panic, he gave her a questioning look, but she just shook her head.

"Worried about Conner," she muttered. He reached over and squeezed her shoulder reassuringly, making her jump from surprise at the comforting gesture.

"Take it easy, she's tough. And chances are she'd be worse off if you hadn't done what you did," he said, and when she looked at him, he truly believed it. Tears filled her eyes, and he must have written them off to emotion about the night, because he focused instead on driving.

If only he knew.

* * *

**Post-Chapter Note:**

**Weeeeeeell, opinions :D? I know Conner seems unpleasant when it comes to Camilla, but do you think it's fair? What do you think's Camilla's secret?! Did you like?! I hope I did the episode some justice…! Have a great weekend, guys! I'm dying to read your input!**


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